Life

Well, it seems as though I have reached a plateau when it comes to my coming out process.

I went to therapy yesterday and had nothing to struggle over.

I don't know why or how, but about four weeks ago (maybe more) things started to he back to normal. I stopped bursting out into tears. I stopped being hurt or irrationally angry with anyone in particular (specifically with my dad).

I seemed to get my regular self back.

The trippy thing? I don't know why things leveled out. There wasn't one thing that happened. And to be honest that kind of freaks me out. Because of I can't figure out why I'm doing well. And to be honest the reason why that deals me out so much because if I don't know why I'm happy, couldn't it be feasible that I could slip back into sadness and emotional ridiculousness. Yeah, my therapist thought I was being silly too.

So, I'll ride it out. For now.

Dirty Little Hetero Secret

During my late teens and up until about a year and a half ago I had a slight obsession that I never told any about. My mom knew, but she ignored it, mostly because I think she had the same affliction.

If anyone had thought I did what I did I would have denied it to my deathbed. Well, maybe not my deathbed. But I certainly did a number of things to ensure that not a soul knew about my addiction.

My obsession?

Romance novels. And not historical romance novels, either. The crazy, stupid, over the top, pathetic and horribly patronizing Harlequin (yes, I said Harlequin) paperback novels you can buy at the grocery store. Eventually I learned that I couldn't keep buying the books at $6 a pop and turned to the public library.

And even then I would only check them out at libraries that had self check out. The embarrassment and humiliation that was a potential to experience by having someone find me out was the only thing that stopped me from buying more.

As of right now I have four garbage bags full of books. A rough estimate I think puts it at about 50 books a bag. Seriously. That's almost 200 books. And that's not counting the library books I took out. I would never leave the library without taking at least four books with me.

I'm horrified be this collection. I'm even waiting until my family is out of the house to smuggle them to the Goodwill. Part of me thinks I shouldn't donate them, I should burn them.

They are bad books. Let's not even think about the writing. It's not good. I'm talking about the other stuff. Favourite titles? Anything that has "virgin" in the title will be an emotional roller coaster. Bah.

I'm sure that it's a formula. Introduce mousy, average girl (who never has a last name) doing some sort of menial labour to pay off debts (never her own, a sick mother or deadbeat brother or father). Enter a jaded billionaire who sees her and feels something strange. Obsessed with her, she Is offered a job she thinks "great, I can pay off my debts". They sleep together, she falls in love and then...the misunderstanding happens. He gets angry, turns her into his mistress. He feels hurt, betrayed, upset. And then acts like an asshole. Then there's the big flourish. She defends him, proclaims her love sand he overhears the selfless declaration. Or he learns that those debts were not her own, and that she in fact was a virgin. Cue sappy epilogue with children and happiness.

What can I say? I was hooked. I was guaranteed a happy ending, with some sauciness included. And then I found the "Blaze"series of Harlequin. Ummm. Much saucier.

But now that I've come out, having these books is troublesome. If I've been gay for quite some time, what was it with my crazy Hetero book collection? It's bizarre. I don't quite know what to do with this worry.

I'm not straight, and I am sure that the romance, being taken care of (barf, did I just think that) was the novelty. I don't know. I have to think this one through.

So moving forward I am opening myself up to better smut. Smut that doesn't require heroines to be virginal or drop dead gorgeous. Smut that allows women to explore love and loss in a way that doesn't not require that they give up their autonomy and power.

Not gonna lie, a part of me will miss those books. They was a certain comfort in reading the predictable storylines. I knew I was going to get a traditionally happy ending. But, this is a year of new beginnings. And quite frankly having this much heteronormativity so close to my bed is freaking me out.

Not to mention the free space. Those puppies were taking up two dresser drawers and my whole night stand.

Sigh. Don't judge me too harshly.

Family Disconnection

Everyone has those family members who you just don't connect with.  In my family I seem to have more than one.  I don't have issues with any of them particularly.  You know, they're just folks that I'm related to, and see on a semi regular basis.  When I see them we talk about the same shit.  They do the same stuff, share the same stuff.  More boring than anything else.

The majority of my family members who I have less than close relationships do not know about my coming out.  They are pretty much in the dark about this new development.  And no, I don't think that they know.  In fact, I would bet a significant amount of money that they are clueless about much of my life.  For most of these family members, they continue to treat me like a 12 year old.  I'm not so vain to think that it's because they think I'm immature, I think it more has to do with their vanity and lack of awareness in general.  It seems to be a pattern in their lives.

What I find interesting about this whole process is that during my big reveal, they weren't on the list of people to tell about my identity marker.  It never crossed my mind to tell them.  The reasons were many:

1. They wouldn't know how to react. 
2. No connection with them anyway, why start now?
3. The awkwardness.  Oh, the awkwardness.
4. They don't care.

Number four sounds harsh, but to be honest these few family members that I haven't told are navel gazers.  Not too interested in others, and definitely not interested in me. 

We have some relatives from out of town visiting (from very far away, visits happen usually every 1.5 years...with no talk in between).  And it has not even crossed my mind to tell them.  It doesn't hurt not to, it's not hurting to keep it secret.  And that surprises me.

I don't know how long I can keep it from all these relatives (which is probably a lot when I actually start to count it up).  But there is a part of me that doesn't really mind.  They'll find out and again, I would bet, they won't say anything.  They'll act like they always knew.  No big deal.  But since they rarely ask about myself I don't think I'm in danger of having my cover blown.

Part of me is sad that I don't have closer relationships with them, but on the other hand, I rarely get anything from them (in the form of support, etc.) so it really isn't a loss.

It's just interesting to think about.

One thing I am grateful for: not one of them would be vindictive about it.  And that's what I'm going to focus on.

I love my weird, narcissistically-minded family.  And I am not going to try and change it.

 

Source

6 Week Check In

What a difference six weeks can make.  It's been over a month since I started this journey in earnest.  Talking to people, coming out, sharing my story and trying to redefine what I'm doing and who I am.  It feels like forever ago sometimes when I first started to share.  It seems, sometimes that it was just yesterday.

I was reflecting (one of my new past times) about the whole process this past week, after I started to take a break from the whole idea of coming out.

Firstly, I was impressed that I was able to actually take a break.  When my therapist suggested that I think about scaling back, I thought it was an impossible task.  No way could I actually do it.  Never.  It was far too present and big for me to ignore.  I got irritated with the very thought that I could put this process on hold.

But, it seems that somehow I have.  The last couple of weeks have been all about work, getting stuff done, getting ready for fall and also a big push to relax.  Work has been insane, but it has been possible to kick back occasionally.

I'm currently dreaming about many other things- not just the gay thing.  It's an odd feeling, like I'm back to myself.

Four weeks ago I was terrified about thinking about anything else until I had solidified my new identity.  I should be looking into communities, lesbian groups, reading about gay-ness. 

Now, I feel like I'm getting back to who I really am, realizing that I don't need a brand new identity.  That the one I have is ok.  However, this feeling is usually fleeting.  Something to work on, I suppose.

Not quite sure when this hiatus from the whole thing will be over.  The thought scares me.  But it scares me even more to think I could get used to not thinking about it.

 

Source

Gossip Girl

I'm starting to have my first taste of the drama that can explode with coming out.  Not having people be offended or shun me. The exact opposite actually.

I have a friend, Carrie, who I've known since high school, we are in regular contact and we generally see one another (in a group setting) once a month.  She was very happy and accepting when I came out to her. 

You ever meet those people who take great pleasure in telling you that they have a friend who is part of a disinfranchised group?  My friend, so-and-so, who is black/Asian/disabled told me...blah, blah, blah.

I generally can't stand those people.  They drive me bonkers.  Really, really crazy.  Those are the kinds of people that take pleasure in telling people scandalous tidbits and revelling in the reactions of their audience.  It's sooooo exciting!

Don't get me wrong, gossip is fun.  I am not one of those people who is above gossiping, or pretends like they don't love a good dramatic story between real people.  I get it, it adds variety and spice to life.  And I don't even mind if I'm the topic of your gossip.  Truly.  I've had a few (very few) experiences of being people's "big news".  I'm not opposed or offended when this happens. 

What irritates the shit out of me is when you use my big moment to ruin shit for me. Enter Carrie.

Last week I was hanging out with a dear friend, Tara.  She lives in a city a couple of hours away, and I hadn't seen her in a while.  I got to tell her my news via email (which was not so bad), and then last week we got together to talk more (while drinking red wine).  Eventually it came out that Carrie called Tara three days after my big reveal to her.  An odd thing, because Carrie and Tara don't really talk.  They are friendly, they might comment on the same FB post, but no communication outside of that.  Tara mentioned that Carrie had started by talking about her troubled relationship with her longtime love.  Then quickly transitioned to sharing my news with Tara.

When Tara shared this with me, I laughed.  I'm rarely the centre of attention in my life (my preference), but once and a while, it's kind of thrilling.  I was flattered, and since Tara had already heard the news from me before Carrie told her, I wasn't upset.  We moved on, shaking our heads at Carrie's move (which was a bit ballsy), but nothing more.

Fast forward to me driving down the highway the next day, when a thought crossed my mind.  If Carrie had decided it was her job to out me to Tara (who she knows I'm close with), what would stop her from outing me to other friends and acquaintances?

Thus started the quick descent into madness.  I became convinced that everyone I went to high school with was informed.  I don't hang out with most of them, but it felt odd to be exposed like that to them.  I wondered what the conversations were like when Carrie shared my big reveal with others.  I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to how/when/who finds out.  The thought that I am out of control for even distant acquaitances is unsettling.  The other big piece that I realized is that I care how I'm depicted, as a member of the GLTB community (even though I'm barely connected to that community yet).  I don't want anyone misconstruing my coming out or my identity.  I don't want people thinking I'm a mess.  I don't want to have a reputation as a puddle of low self-esteem, directionless, irresponsible lesbian.  Even for people who hardly know me, I don't want them to think poorly of me.  And I don't want them to think this is a big deal.  It's a big (giant, huge, enormous) deal for me.  Not for them.

And then I start to think about why I care.  Because I do, and I won't pretend that I don't.  I'm not sure why, although I'm sure my youthful low self-esteem and horrible high school days have something to do with it (and my current state of my personal confidence).

Later this week I went to have drinks with a couple of awesome friends, Sam and Isla.  They wanted to get together, and I wanted to see them.

I shared with them about Carrie's hasty call to Tara and her disclosure of my disclosure.  They were horrified.  They couldn't believe that she had done this.  What is wrong with her?

Then it hit me.  Has Carrie outed me to my longest and oldest friend, Sara (whom she knows and talks to)?  Sara, the evangelical, mom to four who I'm sure would flip out at the thought that one of her closest friends (and maid of honour at her wedding) is a lesbian.

I had recently started to plot how I would tell Sara this news one to one, as it had become clear to me that I really wanted/needed to tell her face to face (a change from my original plan of never telling her...quelle surprise).  And now to be faced with this was like a smack in the face.

Before any of this it was daunting enough to have to work up the courage to tell Sara and deal with the fall out.  I knew already she wouldn't be pleased, and might even say something hurtful.  I knew that we probably wouldn't have a friendship after the disclosure, but I didn't know how to continue on with her not knowing.  Our friendship has such deep roots (and happy memories) I felt deceitful in letting others fill her in.  I was clear when I told Carrie that I didn't want to tell Sara.  That I didn't want her to know.

Now, I was faced with the reality that I would have to connect with Carrie and have an awkward conversation.

"So, I heard you outed me to Tara.  Have you told Sara?  Because if you did, I'll fucking flip."

I was so angry.  Not only did I have to figure out how to have this nasty conversation with Sara, now it had to be preceded by an uncomfortable conversation with Carrie.  Great.

Combine this with her attitude of propriety over my new identity and attempt at telling Tara first, I was downright mad.

After drinks with Sam and Isla I decided to connect with those who know Carrie.  I was assured that Carrie wouldn't tell Sara.  She just wouldn't, not her style.

I wish I could say I was confident in that assumption.

So now, not only do I have to rethink my friendships with those three friends from college, but now I have to re-evaluate another relationship.  Fuck.  I'm tired.

Source

I Was Right

Remember the friends who had a less than wonderful reaction to the big reveal?

I told my therapist (I told her!) that they wouldn't bring it up again.  They wouldn't ask me how I was, or talk to me about my process (despite asking for their help/support).

And the result?  An email was received.  And didn't say a fucking thing about me baring my soul.

How did it go?

Something like..."Hey!  Let's go out for dinner...and do a HP marathon...when are people available?".

I have yet to respond.  Catty?  Maybe.  But I feel totally uninterested in expelling the energy that would be necessary to engage.  I tired.  Literally.  Exhausted by doing this, tired from talking to the people in my life about the process.  I'm also resentful that they don't seem to be doing the same kind of work that I am about the issue.  What the hell?

I'm the one responsible for getting these friendships in order while sit in blissful ignorance.  Why?  Because I refuse to pander to them.  I refuse to be the one to fix this, like I'm the one who broke these friendships.

Besides, I'm still on a fucking break.

Instead I will try and channel my energy to appreciate my good friends. 

Source

Break

Yesterday I had my second session with my therapist.  It is a bit of an odd experience.  I went to her for about five years in my early twenties, only to drift away for the past five years.

I came back, and part of it is like coming home.  It took no time at all to find my groove.

I'm different, older, somewhat wiser and much more emotionally together than I was at 23 years old.

Yesterday, after sharing and talking and processing, my therapist suggested that I take a break from the process for a couple of weeks.  Take some time, relax, calm down and get done what needs to get done (deadlines are a summer thing for me, it seems).

So.  I'm going to try and take a break.

But you know me and my plans.

 Source

Breathe

Again, work is difficult.  So I find myself sitting in front of the Interwebs, trolling my favourite sites and blogs, looking around Pinterest (addicted) and was led to this article about the whole "Chick-fil-A" controversy.

I don't know what a "Chick-fil-A" is, but I can deduce that it is some sort of fried chicken emporium that makes tasty things out of oil, carbs and protein.  I can usually get down with that idea.  But seeing as how I am a Canadian, we don't indulge with the "Chick-fil-A" folks.  It seems that their brand has not made it North of the border (odd).

It's been a bit of a crazy issue, and I can't quite wrap my head around the ridiculousness of a chicken sandwich being homophobic.  I do know that if I were in the States, I would be joining the boycott.

I was led to this blog posting that was so eloquent in its execution, I was floored.  Awesomely written, it really does speak to the issues at hand.  Enjoy:

This post is all I have to say about the Chick-Fil-A controversy. It sums up various posts on the issue and various points made by my friends and I. From now own, rather than spend time debating this issue person by person, I’m going to point people here.

My hope here is to find common ground with those who have disagreed with me on the issue, and maybe to persuade. It’s not to ridicule or to best.

So, in the interest of common ground, let’s start here: I acknowledge the absurdity of all this debate.

It’s definitely strange to have days-long Facebook debates flare up everywhere over a chicken sandwich. The anger, sarcasm, and hurt feelings on display seem strange or even laughable because most people have seen Chick-Fil-A as just a restaurant with a funny ad campaign. I’ll get into some of the whys and wherefores of that later. But, for now, let’s just say that, yes. It can seem ridiculous to get all worked up over fast-food chicken.
Let’s also agree that this isn’t about curtailing anyone’s rights under First Amendment. The Constitution is a legal document. This is not a legal argument. No one is arguing that Chik-fil-A CEO Dan Cathy should be put in prison, or silenced, or censored by the government. This has nothing to do with government censorship or government abridgment of Freedom of Speech. So don’t worry: the ability of this millionaire to legally spend his millions as he sees fit is not in jeopardy. You need not defend it.

Now, let’s get to the nitty-gritty of things. Please read carefully. These things have been said before, but not by me, and not all in one place. Please read with an open mind. If you can’t read with an open mind, please leave, take a minute, come back, and try again. If you can’t do that, then please don’t bother. Please read all of the words here, rather than just reading half of the argument and assuming you know what I’m saying. Read these words as they are written. Again, if you don’t want to read my words, then don’t continue.

So here goes:

1. This isn’t simply about marriage. Shocker, right? It’s extremely frustrating that same-sex marriage is the great continental divide. People are judged according to how they stand on this issue, as if no other issue matters. Did you know that a person can be for same-sex marriage and still be homophobic? Did you know that a person can be against same-sex marriage and be gay? We all get categorized very quickly based on the marriage issue and maybe that’s not fair. But here’s what you should know:

- In 29 states in America today, my partner of 18 years, Cody, or I could be fired for being gay. Period. No questions asked. One of those states is Louisiana, our home state. We live in self-imposed exile from beloved homeland, family, and friends, in part, because of this legal restriction on our ability to live our lives together.

- In 75 countries in the world, being gay is illegal. In many, the penalty is life in prison. These are countries we can’t openly visit. In 9 countries, being gay is punishable by death. In many others, violence against gays is tacitly accepted by the authorities. These are countries where we would be killed. Killed.

- Two organizations that work very hard to maintain this status quo and roll back any protections that we may have are the Family Research Council and the Marriage & Family Foundation. For example, the Family Research council leadership has officially stated that same-gender-loving behavior should be criminalized in this country. They draw their pay, in part, from the donations of companies like Chick-Fil-A. Both groups have also done “missionary” work abroad that served to strengthen and promote criminalization of same-sex relations.

- Chick-Fil-A has given roughly $5M to these organizations to support their work.
- Chick-Fil-A’s money comes from the profits they make when you purchase their products.

2. This isn’t about mutual tolerance because there’s nothing mutual about it. If we agree to disagree on this issue, you walk away a full member of this society and I don’t. There is no “live and let live” on this issue because Dan Cathy is spending millions to very specifically NOT let me live. I’m not trying to do that to him.

Asking for “mutual tolerance” on this like running up to a bully beating a kid to death on the playground and scolding them both for not getting along. I’m not trying to dissolve Mr. Cathy’s marriage or make his sex illegal. I’m not trying to make him a second-class citizen, or get him killed. He’s doing that to me, folks; I’m just fighting back.

All your life, you’re told to stand up to bullies, but when WE do it, we’re told WE are the ones being intolerant? Well, okay. Yes. I refuse to tolerate getting my ass kicked. “Guilty as charged.”

But what are you guilty of? When you see a bully beating up a smaller kid and you don’t take a side, then you ARE taking a side. You’re siding with the bully. And when you cheer him on, you’re revealing something about your own character that really is a shame.

3. This isn’t about Jesus. I have a lot of Christian friends. Most of them are of the liberal variety, it’s true, but even this concept seems lost on some of you. Most of them are pro-LGBT rights. Pro-gay and Pro-Christ are NOT mutually exclusive. They never have been, in the history of Christianity, though it’s been difficult at times. It’s not impossible to be both.

If someone is telling you it is, then maybe you should wonder why they’d do that. I see divorced Christians, remarried Christians, drug addict Christians. I see people with WWJD bracelets bumping and grinding on TV and raking in millions to do it. I see greedy, rapacious, vengeful people who are Christians. And these people are accepted in the Church, and the Church does very little to combat them. Sometimes it seems like being gay is the ONLY thing certain modern Christian movements won’t allow. Why’s that, I wonder?

Jesus had almost nothing to say about sexual behavior of any kind. He was too busy teaching more important things. Empathy is at the heart of his teachings. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Remember that? It’s in red. So let’s examine that:
4. If things were reversed, I’d stand up for you.

Please think about this: How would you feel if KFC came out tomorrow and said they were spending money against equality for Asian Americans, or African Americans, or religious people? Really. Think about it. What would you do? How would you feel? How would you feel if, after their announcement, there was a big increase in KFC sales and I was all over Facebook supporting KFC. Please stop reading right now and imagine this. I’m serious.
You can stop now because it’s ludicrous. It would never happen.

Oh, I don’t mean the part about KFC being against some group. That COULD happen. I mean the part about me supporting them. Let me tell you something, and you can damn well believe it: I’d sign on for the boycott IMMEDIATELY.

Why? Well, because I believe in equality for all people, that’s why. But also, personally, from the bottom of my heart: because you are my friend, and I don’t willingly support people who harm you for just being you. How could I? How could I, really? But, more importantly for our purposes, how could you?

Seriously, how could you? What has Chick-Fil-A ever done for you? Sold you some fatty chicken at a ridiculous mark-up? Made you chuckle at semi-literate cartoon cows? You mean more to me than KFC possibly could. If I, in turn, don’t mean more to you than a chicken sandwich from Chik-Fil-A–if my life, my quality of life, and my dignity are such afterthoughts to you that you’d not only refuse the boycott, but go out of your way to support someone who was hurting me? if I let this stand, if I don’t stand up to the bullies and if I let my friends egg the bullies on, what does that make me?

Well, it makes me a Chikin.

Yeah, so suddenly it is cause for anger, ridiculous or not.

But I’m not going to stop being Facebook friends with anyone over this issue.

Instead, I will remain. And, when you see my face with my partner’s in my profile, maybe you will examine not simply what your opinions are about gay people, or gay marriage, or the first amendment, even; maybe you’ll examine not merely your opinions but your values. What is friendship to you? What is loyalty? How important are human life and dignity to you? Are they more important than fitting in with your social group? Are they more important than loyalty to a corporate brand, or a political party, or some misguided church teaching?

That’s why we’re so angry. This is personal for us. There are times in your life when you have the opportunity to stand up for your friends. When you let that opportunity pass, your friends notice. It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, but it diminishes you, and it diminishes the friendship. That’s how it is, no matter what the issue or what the venue.
So stand up. Stand up for us. Do the right thing. You don’t have to agree with us on everything, but repudiate Chick-Fil-A. Unlike them on Facebook. Withdraw your support for them. Join us in the boycott. If you can’t do that, then please ask yourself whether I’m your friend. In fact, ask yourself whether anyone is.

This is all I have to say. If you’d like to debate the issue further, I’ll do it, but I’m not going to go around and around on the same points. If you’re just going to repeat yourself, save us both some time. If you haven’t taken the time to actually read this carefully and actually consider carefully what I’ve said, then I see no reason to waste further words.
The ball is in your court. Again, I urge you to do the right thing.

Expectations

Well, it was bound to happen, right?

Yesterday (that shit day) was truly sad and then fucking bizarre.  It started with me going out to lunch with some friends.  I count them as some of my closest friends from college.  I've known them for about seven years and over the past few years we've supported each other through some awesome times, and through some really hard moments.  On Sunday was another moment; I decided to share with them that I had come out.

It seemed like the natural progression of things.  These friends are women that I talk to a lot, hang out with and spend as much time with as I can.  I would call them best friends.  We all work (or have worked) in social services, and we get one another.  We're often having to deal with hard moments, supporting others and understanding the struggles that others go through.

I got to the restaurant and met my friends, first we celebrated our friend's new full time position.  Then the conversation turned to me.  And I dove right in.  I let them know what I had been going through: I am gay.

You could have heard a fucking pin drop.  Nothing.  They looked so uncomfortable.  They didn't say anything.  It was bizarre.  The table got quiet.

I waited for the questions that I have come to expect.  

When did you know?  
Who did you tell first?  
Are you ok?  
Thanks for sharing, it must be crazy.

Nothing.  Then I got, "How did everyone take it?".  I was not aware that I was delivering a punch to the gut.  I started to get irritated, then I heard my therapist's voice in my head:

They can't read your mind. If you want something, or if you want support, you have to speak up.

So I did.  I laid it all out on the table.  I spoke up. Talked about how hard it was.  Shared how scared, vulnerable, upsetting and difficult this process was for me.

Again, silence.  Nothing.  No check in, no support.  No nothing.  I was floored.  I didn't know what to do, how to handle it.  It was so clear that they didn't want to talk about it.  So clear that they didn't know what to say.  So I changed the subject after an awkward ten minutes.

All of this has me trying to figure out my expectations.  What did I expect?  As I was driving today I tried to think about my expectations prior to sharing with these friends.  After a few hours, I came to the conclusion that even though these friends are my most thoughtful and quiet, they've always had my back.  They've offered tremendous support in other, less difficult situations.  I expected more.

I knew they would be an interesting group.  One of my friends is a devout Christian.  I was worried about her.  I remember her saying something about being against gay marriage six years ago, or so.  I told her, at the time that if she felt compelled to say those types of things, we couldn't be friends.  So we decided not to talk about religion.  And so far, it has worked for us.  But I thought for this moment, my other two friends would have been able to speak up more.

Yesterday she could barely look me in the eye.  It was devastating.

My other two friends didn't know quite what to do about it.  What to say, what to do.

I could almost feel them relax when I changed the subject.  Odd.  That was the opposite of what I felt.

Lunch continued with the getting very excited about making plans for us.  A trip to the city, a Harry Potter marathon, a trip to the beach.  They were eager to hang out again with me included.  When was I available?  Where's did I want to go?  They were giggly and silly for the rest of lunch.  Something felt disingenuous and weird.  It felt as though they were trying to send me a message: we don't care if you're gay, we're still friends.  

But I heard another message: we don't care if you're gay.  And please don't make us talk about it again.

So crushing.  After lunch I said to my devout friend: Are you ok with this information?  "oh yeah!" was the response.  Hugs and giggles.  But still no support, or recognition of the feelings that I shared.

After lunch they were feeling chipper.  They wanted to continue hanging out.  Let's go to Starbucks!  No, thanks, I said.  I needed to go and cry.  

Would they have talked to me more about it if I had stayed?  I don't know.  I wonder.  I was just too hurt, sad.

Because what does this mean for my three friendships with these friends?  Why didn't I see this coming?  Did I know this would happen?  I don't think it would have mattered.  I'm so sad.  And more than that, I'm scared.  This was the one thing I didn't want to have happen.  Changing my relationships that I value.  I don't know how to deal with this.
Thank god I go to therapy tomorrow.

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Shit Day

What could make a day worse, after a less than awesome (actually less than mediocre) day of disclosure to some very close friends that I'm a lesbian?

How about coming home to discover that I get to spend several hours (actually 8 hours exactly) helping the family entertain some outspoken, narcissistic, racist, misogynistic, and just plain stupid house guests?

Yes. A shit day. I'm too tired to write about the horrible-ness of today. But I wanted to remind myself online that not everyone thinks Obama is a bad president because of his skin colour (I shit you not) and that transgendered folks who elect to have gender re-assignment surgery have not "been tricked by their therapists".

Fuck me.

Family Values

Last night I got to hang with a great friend.  I adore my friendship with this person, it seems to me to be the most authentic friendship I have.  She's not into fake, disingenuous talk.  She doesn't hug, it's not her thing.  She's not overly excitable, but she is always there if needed.  I need to talk to her about something, she needs a sounding board, we know that we can get together crack open a few beers (except right now I'm the only one drinking...as she has a fetus invading her uterus) and talk, laugh and enjoy comfortable silence.

She's also a friend who I feel comfortable saying the shit out loud that others might cringe at, and she feels the same.  She sent me this quote yesterday from a Salon.com article she read about Amy Sherman-Palladino:

...the core it’s still a theme I’m interested in, which is, family is so important and you feel like, “No matter what, you have your family, no matter what you love your family” and yet, it’s like, “Do you?” Families can be the most detrimental things to have in your life. They are sometimes the most poisonous relationships that people have. Sometimes family is the thing that keeps you from ever achieving what you want to achieve, and yet people hold it and hold it and grab it and try to fix it and twist it and turn it. And I just find that fascinating; I just find it fascinating.

Wow.  I fist pumped like Pauly D when I read this- it was incredibly liberating to read.  I often meet people in my professional and personal life who tell me about the importance of family, the value of family and then segue nicely into telling me about the hurtful and cruel things their family has done to themselves or others.

At this point in my life I'm thinking a lot about family and hurtful relationships.   The coming out process can be riddled with relationships exploding or dying.  I'm surprised at how concerned I am about the potential for relationships to explode.  At the beginning of this journey I said to more than one person that if my coming out ends a relationship, then that's ok.  I don't want people in my life who can't handle my truth.  I think I was a bit overzealous in my statement.  Truth is, I do care.  Nobody wants to be rejected, it hurts.

That's why reading the above quote gave me hope.  It was as if Sherman-Palladino was breaking some cardinal rule and speaking out against the untouchable value of "family".  We all know families are insane at times, no one is exempt from it.  But there also seems to be an unwritten rule to not speak badly about your family.  And if you do, you appear cruel, cold and unable to maintain a relationship.  When the reality of it is, honesty and a desire to protect yourself are being presented.

There is balance in everything.  I adore my dad and want to maintain a strong relationship with him, but there are times when he irritates the shit out of me and sometimes says things that are hurtful.  I'm not willing to cut him out (the thought never even crossed my mind) of my life.  But the thought that he would do that to me (an irrational thought, a passing thought) cuts deep. 

And it all comes back to power and control.  That's big- and I think that's what it's about when it comes to these tricky family relationships. If you have a family member who uses that power and control to make you feel like shit- time for some reflection.

Now the Gilmore Girls seems much deeper than I remember.

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Drama

I am not a drama queen.  I detest even the label "drama queen".  I am an avoider of drama.

I do find the drama of other people's lives very fascinating.  Well, ficticious people actually.  As a teen I soaked up soap operas in the summer ("Passions" anyone??).  I had a serious love for celebrity gossip in my mid twenties.  And when I first moved out on my own I secretly loved being able to watch trashy talk shows.

But in my own life, I avoid drama.  My relationships are drama free for the most part.  I don't openly try and instigate problems, arguments or issues.  I don't even do the whole passive aggressive piece.   Gossip?  Oh heck yes.  I'm not above admitting that I like to dish.  But, my dish sessions will always end with a reasoned response, and a completely adult answer to the most petty of arguments and situations.

My family is far from perfect.  My immediate family seems to have their shit together, but we're still quirky enough to make me very excited when I get 24 hours all alone.

My extended family is filled with a whole slew of interesting/frustrating/infuriating and loveable characters.  They are not perfect, and in fact I prefer to only converse with some of them on a limited basis, but at the end of the day they are who they are.

My life, up to this point, has been devoid of confrontration or irrationality.

Until now.  I have been a big believer in not attracting drama, and not responding dramatically and actively avoiding it.  Life is crazy enough without me adding to it by being over the top, immature or ridiculous.

Fast forward to this summer, and the "big reveal".  All of a sudden my propensity to slam doors, run out of rooms, cry at a pin drop and talk and talk and talk about my experience and process has increased.  An opportunity for a dramatic response?  Count me in. 

The actual experience is odd.  As I'm going through the emotions of feeling out of control (whether it is me running out of a chapel, telling someone "I'm not ok with what is coming out of your mouth" or crying at work) it feels like an out of body experience.  I can see me taking the steps towards drama.  I can hear my rational brain saying "Don't do that...don't be a child.  Get a backbone and stay still.".  I ignore that voice in a remarkable fashion.  I feel my inner self cringing at the awkwardness of my drama.  Yes, nothing more awkward than a 30 year old woman acting like a teenager.

So what is it about this situation and coming out process that inspires me to be a dramatic person?  I can speculate, but I hate the thought that this could be real.

It could be the lack of drama in my personal life.  I've never been one to yell/scream or have generally bad personal experiences.  I once had a friend turn around and full on hate me (another story), but I was so unaffected by it and uninterested in the drama of it I didn't realize it until the relationship had been well and dead for nearly six months.  I was not a dramatic teenager.  I did not have crazy relationship in university.  I was the pillar of strength, the voice of reason.

Maybe all that lack of drama has stunted me, and now I'm catching up for lost time?

I hate that idea.  When I hear about coming out stories I often hear about folks doing crazy shit, getting into insane relationships and making asses out of themselves.  That fate terrifies me, but I fear that I am going to go through that for the next little while, despite my responsible side.

The impending drama is scaring the shit out of me.  But I can see how I would think it's exciting at the same time.  People are always saying how they "hate the drama".  Bullshit.  People love drama, it adds to their life and gives them a distraction.

Maybe that's what I need, a distraction. 

But I will never be a drama queen.

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Joiner

I'm not a joiner.  When I was first invited to my book club I did not attend for the first four months.  I felt uncomfortable, nervous and not happy about the idea of joining a group of women who would be drinking wine and talking about literature and authors like it was their job (turns out it's more like getting drunk, smoking and talking about sex).

I'm sure there are many deep seeded reasons for why I'm not a joiner.  It probably has its roots in my youth.  As a young, round, fat, shy girl I was pained to join in on the fun.  Funny how a few bad experiences of being teased (or just out and out ignored) can make an impact.  I can't quite remember the first time I was purposefully excluded or ridiculed, but there are a few times that are crystal clear in my mind.

1996 - Grade eight.  I was the new kid, and for some bizarre reasons I was hanging out with "the cool kids".  I was totally out of my element, but excited for the fact that I seemed to be included.  One day I was squeezed out of their inner circle.

I'm not being figurative.  I was literally squeezed out of the morning huddle, where everyone talked and caught up when they arrived at school.  Burn.

2000 - Grade 12.  In English class the chair I was sitting on broke.  It was an old chair, but as an overweight teen I was mortified.  A classmate laughed so hard and wouldn't stop, he had to be sent out of the room.  Now that classmate is a police officer in a neighbouring town that does not have a good track record.  I'm not implying anything, but generally douchebags like that don't make for the most reliable people.

2001- First year university.  I was asked to do the lighting for the university production of "West Side Story", while a bunch of my burgeoning new friends worked stage management.  After the performance was done I would avoid not being included in socializing by sneaking back to my dorm room, alone.  After the run of the show I didn't hear from any of them.  Only looking back and realizing how cut off I made myself makes me realize what I did.  At the time I just felt hurt.

Looking back on these instances I can tell that there were times where my own awkwardness won out and I cheated myself out of some potentially awesome experiences.  But in the moment, it felt shitty and like I wasn't wanted.

Since university my ability to grow has been pretty awesome.  I've developed an array of social skills (awkwardness only creeps in if I stay away from people for too long) and an ability to get to know people I've never met before.

But, as a rule, I'm generally a "one to one" kind of person.  Large groups are intimidating.  Parties have never been my happy place.  Even when I start talking to one person at a party I'm always nervous that I'm keeping them from a more interesting conversation or opportunity (for reals...this affliction recently came up at my 30th birthday party).

I am my own worst enemy sometimes.

Yesterday a friend (who is "in the community") sent me a local newsletter full of lesbian social activities.  And I got scared.  Very scared.  There's a whole bunch of different stuff that sounds interesting, but the mere thought of going to one of these gatherings without knowing anyone (let's not even get into the whole gay thing) has me stress eating like nothing before.

I know what I want- a community.  And I know that it's just waiting for me.  I just have to take the first step, put myself out there and be ready for whatever will happen.  These social things are to facilitate just that, community building.  But it speaks to that lonely fourteen year old girl inside who got squeezed out 16 years ago.  Interesting how some hurts leave their mark.

I guess what's even bigger than my fear of joining, is the fear that I'll try it out...and it won't turn out.  My need for community is big, very big.  If this were to fail, I would be so upset.

But remember that book club?  The one I was too afraid to go to for four months?  Now I count most of those women (if not all) some of my closest friends who are giving me some amazing support and love through this process.


Perhaps it's time I tried being a joiner again.

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Living a Lie?

I've always been a sucker for identity construction.  I find the whole concept fascinating to think about.  How does someone create their own identity?  We start out with attachement to our primary caregiver (sometimes) and gradually move forward to figure out who we are individually.  It's a process that takes years, and can be heavily influenced by big events, big personalities but also more insipid factors.  A chance encounter, media messaging, a passing comment or a brief, but scary emotional moment.

During my undergrad career I was most fascinated by the idea of how one figures out who they are.  I worked on research projects devoted to the subject, and eventually found myself in a profession that was about supporting others in figuring out their place in the world.  It was really interesting.

Because of all of this I have always associated "knowing who you really are" with having your shit together.  Over the past five years I've turned into a much more self reflective person than I ever thought I would be.  I started to understand who I am, what I believe in and what kind of person I want to be.  I have transformed (I believe) into a very non judgemental person, who accepts people for who they are.  This is incredibly helpful in my profession, and I find that it works well for managing vicarious trauma.

But now I'm at a cross roads.  I'm at this new junction in my life where I'm starting to question my identity in a big way.  I've avoided talking about my sexuality openly for my entire life.  And I'm craving some kind of change because of this acknowledgment.  So...what does this mean for my carefully crafted self reflected image?

On the weekend I was talking to an out friend about how much this had taken me by surprise.  Who was I now?  How did I live for so long ignoring this part?  The brief exchange went like this:

Me: You have to understand, that up until this month, I was one of the most self-reflective people I knew.

Her: Bullshit.

That stopped me.  Was she serious?  Was she right?  Was I really just fooling myself before?  Was I not really self reflective, was I just passing by, skimming the surface?  Devastated, that was the overwhelming feeling.

When people in my life had problems, and let's be real- people who weren't really in my life had problems, I would be their sounding board.  Clients, families, strangers, friends, friends of friends have always disclosed to me.  I used to find it uncomfortable.  I eventually learned that this was a gift- a big one.  I used to think this happened to me because I was an open and approachable person.  Even that I'm starting to question.

The bigger question for me is: have I been living a lie?

I don't know the answer, the possiblity of it being true is scary enough.  It would be an easy thing to ignore or dismiss- but it is there.  Making me think.  Making me scared that I've been able to fool myself for years into thinking I was one thing while denying this big thing.

The shear fact that I'm thinking about this should be my answer.  I'm self reflecting on the question if I'm self reflective.  But I don't know if that fact alone makes me feel ok.  At least, not yet.

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The First Time

It has occurred to me that I haven't shared or written about my own coming out story.  At this point, I feel like I've said it over and over again.  But the whole point of doing this blog is to journal in a way that I feel comfortable.  And if it means that someone stumbles across here and reads it and feels less alone, then that works too.

It started the last week of June when one of my closest friends was visiting from Newfoundland.  It's a fair distance from where I live and I was excited to see her.  We planned for one visit to a nearby city where she was interviewing for a job.  We went out, had a great dinner and caught up in a major way.  She was talking about an unrequited love, and didn't know what to do about it.  We talked about it and had a good chat.  

And then it happened.  The thought that has been swirling in my mind for months would not go away.  I thought to myself: this is the perfect time, tell her you're gay.  This thought had come to mind a few different times before in the last month more strongly, but some combination of the closeness I was feeling with my friend and the safety in the situation made me do it.  I figured, if it didn't feel right, or I didn't like it- I could take it back.  Why not?  She lives on a rock in the middle of the North Atlantic.  Not like she was going to tell anyone.

So it came out.  If felt odd to say something out loud that I've known for quite some time.  And it was not completely comfortable.  But I felt this strange rush.  My world changed.  My friend was wonderful.  And then asked if I had shared with anyone else.  No, was my response, she was the first.  Was I going to tell my parents? was the next question.  My response?  Sure I would tell them.  But probably not until the fall or maybe the winter break in December.  I was in no rush.

And I wasn't.  Not at all.  Truly that night I was comforted with the knowledge that I could hold off on sharing this information for a few months until I wanted to talk about it.

We had a great visit, walked around town and parted ways the next morning after a perfect greasy breakfast.  I felt good- even with this slight change in the world.  My friend flew back to St. John's and I drove home.  Back to work and home, and my plan to tell the rest of my world in a few months.

And then five days later I told my mother.

And that's another story for another day.

 

 

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I Hate Cats

I feel like I'm already a bad lesbian.  Truth is, I don't like animals of any kind.  I didn't grow up with animals, I didn't have any special pets growing up or feel any need to get a pet. Sure, I had moments of puppy envy when I was very young.  But on the whole that stopped after an unprovoked and frightening dog bite at age 11.

As I'm moving forward now in my journey of "coming out" I'm starting to question my new found identity.  Who exactly am I with this new piece of me that I'm acknowledging?  I want a change, and I think this merits one.  I don't want to go forward with no changes, so I figure I have to start working on how this identity of mine is going to shift.

I've already started to think about it- now that it's out and I don't have to be so afraid of people finding out- what can I do?  How can I make my being gay part of my identity?  And how can I do this in an authentic way?

It's freaking me out and I know that the only way for it not to is for me to meet some other gay folks who will help me realize that my identity is what I make of it.

But I really do hate cats.

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Long Lost Friend

As I mentioned before, a friend of mine recently lost a parent.  It was not a surprise, but that's cold comfort after losing someone who you've had a relationship with (no matter the quality).  Today was the final memorial to say goodbye, and I am not one of those people who "doesn't do funerals".  I can understand and appreciate that funerals are important, less for those who are departed, and more for those who have been left behind.

I went with a couple who was also attending- it was nice to hang out with them before and go together.  Lately my own reliability is questionable, it was a relief to go with someone else.

So on we went to the church- which is Catholic.  I feel like that needs to be a separate post all together, my relationship with the Catholic church.  We entered the church gave hugs and sat down...my friends were great, asking me if I would be ok going into the church.  Mostly asking in a joking way.  I responded with the usually "catching on fire" response.  A little laugh at a funeral is helpful.

We went in and grabbed a seat, and I got used to being in the church for a couple of minutes.  I grew up Catholic, so the surroundings were not difficult to get used to.  Soon after sitting, another friend (who I have not come out to...simply because of conflicting schedules) joined us and sat next to us.  She is lovely- kind, open, calm and amazing.  I was overwhelmed.  The she asked me "how are things with you?".

And I came thisclose to coming out to a friend during Mass.  It shook me.  Scared me.  And again, something that I usually would not do.  It freaked me right out, how quickly I almost did something as insane as coming out in a church that, if they knew, would say that I'm not right and against Jesus.

As the Mass started I saw a parent of a longtime friend.  This woman is probably the most miserable person I have ever known.  She's got issues, and I'm not joking.  I first met her daughter in grade nine, and we were close throughout school, and it culminated in my being her maid of honour when she got married when were 20 years old.

Since my friend's marriage nine years ago, she has started to become more aligned with very conservative and traditional Christian values.  Usually, this won't bother me.  But this friend has also become very outspoken and almost mean in her beliefs, even on one occasion two years ago chastising a group of us for straying from our "Christian faith".

So, you can imagine my surprise when I saw this friend singing in the choir at the funeral (it was a surprise because she moved to a "mega church" about five years ago).

Sidenote: My long lost friend was the youngest in the choir by about 50 years.

I almost lost it.  Combined with the priest's homily about "living the life Christ wants you to live" to get into Eternity, being told to be a "slave to my Master (re: Jesus)", listening to what an amazingly kind man my friend's dead parent was, thinking about my own dad and our issues and what it would feel like to lose him, almost coming out in the middle of Mass to my friend- seeing this old friend just about sent me over the edge.

In between all of this, I couldn't help but call myself a huge drama queen.  I couldn't even sit through Communion, I had to leave.

It culminated at the end with my long lost friend inviting me over to her new home in the next couple of weeks to see her kids and catch up.

Where she will certainly ask me "how are things with you?".

Fuck me.

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Out Pride

After yesterday's "toe dipping" I started to movE quickly and spent most of today at my city's Pride celebrations.  I have been experiencing an overwhelming amount of support today, and had more than one person offer to come out with me, so to speak.

As I said before, Pride is not something that is new to me.  I've been going to Pride for a few years (I KNOW.  GIANT RED LESBIAN FLAG ANYONE?).

I had decided to go with a friend that is going through her own troubles.  We found the park and parked it under a shady tree with some bottled water and hung out for a couple of hours to wait for the parade to reach us.  It wasn't the best site, we were at the end of the parade, and by the time they reached us the parading folks were done.

Late last night I also reached out to my limited lesbian connections, as per my therapist's orders.  They are the only same sex couple that make me feel comfy about talking about my coming out process, and they've been around my family for a long time- so I didn't have to explain the dynamics of my family.

As soon as I saw my lesbian friends- tears.  It was overwhelming.  We spend the next two hours drinking cold beers in the hot sun, talking about the process and me asking them tons of questions.

They provided me with lots of information and support, and great feedback about my current conflict with my dad's reluctance to talk about my coming out.  They were able to give me some context, and helped me realize a few important pieces.  And it didn't hurt that they are both in the helping profession. They immediately informed me of two things that blew my mind:

1. I am, essentially upset with the fact that people are not reacting enough to my coming out.  This is usually the opposite of what people in my position experience.

Whoa.

2.  The coming out process usually takes about two years (including for each of them).

WHAT THE FUCK???  TWO YEARS???

I just about threw up my Bud Light.  I am not prepared for two years of this hellaciousness.  Two years?  Two years of mood swings.  Two years of irrational behaviour.  Two years of feeling out of control.  Two years of being unable to predict my next emotion.

This sent me for a loop.  They continued to share with me about some of their own experience, which was ridiculously amazing to hear.  I am so grateful.

Then they had some fun with me and tried to get me to take some dental dams from the Public Health Unit booth.  I'm so not even prepared for the world of dental dams.

At the end, they gave me some great connections to the community, and were incredibly supportive and fantastic.  I will be knocking on their door soon again.  Two more sherpas of gayness.

At the four hour mark I got tired (really tired).  I was exhausted from the talking, sharing and some of the more disturbing revelations (TWO FUCKING YEARS).  I then announced (in my usually finesse) that "I am done" and strolled back to the car.

I came home, had a cool shower and fell asleep on the couch.

In my desire to soak up the lesbian talk I didn't even get to see some of my straight friends who made it to the park after I left.  Their sweet texts and emails are amazingly supportive.  I am feeling the love in a million different ways and I'm feeling spent, but happy.

So, it seems that this journey is just beginning, and that my timeline of getting my shit together before the start of my fall semester is flying out the window.

But I'll leave that trouble for another day, and bask in the loveliness that was my first "out" Pride.

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Dipping a Toe

Coming out in July has it's advantages, firstly in my city it's when we're celebrating Pride.  I was nervous about this for a few different reasons.  I didn't know if I was ready to immerse myself in the community, be out in the community and try to join in.

But, there was a big part of me that wanted to be part of this special time.  I wanted to be at Pride, enjoy the festivities, feel the love and the spectacle.

For some of those who I came out to (who were also in the know about such things) they asked me if I was going to Pride.  I was hesitant to tell them yes or no.  Would they want to go with me?  Would they want a report on the activities and events?

My friends were a big reason why I felt comfortable to go to Pride events.  They offered to come along with me, lend their support and have some fun.

But I still wasn't ready.  So tonight I dipped my toe in the water.

I went to the low key Pride event that happens in our downtown core with my parents.  This was very calculated, and a plan of mine that finally (finally!) worked. 

Sidenote: I'm a planner.  A real serious planner.  These past four weeks none of my plans have worked.  Ever.  This is a big deal that I followed through on one.

Last week I told my parents that I wanted to check out Pride with them.  It was strategic.  My dad has been less than open with my process, and when I initially told my mom it was accompanied by me telling her not to talk to me about it at all.  Great.  Soon after, I realized that I wanted to talk to her.  Big time.  And that's how I invited them to Pride.  My mom agreed right away, and was ridiculously on board.  My dad?  He needed a threat to come along.

Tonight was low key, our city is big, but Pride is only just starting to become a bigger event.  We walked around, picked up a couple of pamphlets, some ice cream and watched some drag queens sing Petula Clark and Annie Lennox.  

This was followed by a very sweet drag queen, name Spirit reading a statement.  It started off sounding like the "It Gets Better" video statements, but then it got better.  My mom stood next to me and put her arm around me.  Tears welled up and I felt supported.  It felt good.

My dad took pictures, and didn't say too much.  But he was there, and that felt awesome, too.

So tonight I dipped a toe in the water of Pride.  Not going as an ally, but as a member of the GLTB community.  Tomorrow?  I'm diving right in.

 

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