Love Thyself.....some day

As I was power walking today I let my Ipod play classical music. Typically I allow my music to set my thoughts and tone, but today I wanted as little influence as possible. I wanted to try to see things from a different perspective; to allow my thoughts to come naturally with the moment. I tried to appreciate the nature I was experiencing where I typically just drive. I took note of a blue jay and even a couple of people riding the trail on horses. And while I smiled at the simplicity of it all, I found myself preoccupied with my typical thoughts. The thoughts that tell me, no matter how far I walk, no matter what I change, it just isn't good enough.

Call me crazy, but unless I am happy with myself, how can I believe anyone else would be happy with me? All my life I had heard, in order for someone to love you, you have to love yourself. Well I don't. And I cant seem to find a way to. Which must mean no one else can either. Subconsciously this haunts me in everything I do and say. I have found ways over the years to put those thoughts to the back of my head, yet they yell so loudly I cant ignore them, ever.

Recently I have started to walk every day. Each step I take I hope will bring me closer to liking myself and ultimately bringing me one step closer to believing I am loved. I try, as I always do, to rationalize the stupidity that is my head, and understand that the old proverb "love yourself so others can love you" really isn't what we are talking about here, but it doesn't seem to matter. The fact is, I just cant understand how someone could love what I loathe so many things about. Every compliment falls short if its intentions. Each "I love you" I question for sincerity.

I am planning some major physical changes in the very near future. Surgical changes. I would be a liar if I said it was anything other than 1% physical need and 99% mental. Some people might not believe a physical risk for an emotional outcome is worth it. I say they are very wrong. The anticipation of this procedure has me redefining who I am already. The thought alone has created an anticipated growth in confidence and self love. I am already feeling the desire to do and experience things I would never have allowed myself to before.

Feeling good inside will enable me to be a better person to others. I no longer want to spend every minute of the day preoccupied with what makes me feel bad. I want to spend time on the things that make me feel good. Until then I will keep walking. Hoping it too takes me closer to where I need to be. Closer to the day where "love thee as you would love thyself" happens. To the day the words "I love you" no longer need to be questioned, just believed.

Freeing Myself

Its been a little over a year since I began this blog and ultimately a journey like none other. To most my ride has gone undetected. The effects of writing what I typically only allow to swirl in my head has been enlightening, sometimes frightening, but mostly freeing. I wish I had known that 30, 20, even 10 years ago I could have felt this way, had I just opened the door.

This blog has opened the door to an involvement in the LGBT community that I had honestly never even considered. I had no intentions of using these pages to solicit writing opportunities. However, when the opportunities found me I wondered why I hadn't considered how fulling supporting the community through writing could be.

My ultimate goal is to finish my memoir. The thought excites and scares the hell out of me. Someone said recently "....yet you seem so normal", when I was speaking of some experiences I have had. I wonder what she would have said if I had shared anything from my book. Normal? No. Not in the dictionary sense of the word. But to me? Yes. I am normal for what I am supposed to be. I am simply a product of my environment and my experiences, as we all are.

Blogging, writing for LGBT publications, and working on my book this past year has allowed me to learn who I am. It has given me the strength to allow others to learn me too. I have felt decades of emotions wash through me in a small amount of time. It has been an overwhelming, stressful, exhausting experience. Yet it has been one of the most healing things I have ever done.

I will finish my book. I will hopefully send it out to the world. I will share my story for what it is worth. I will not fear the reaction as somehow I know we all can relate. Perhaps not to the tragedies, but to the feelings.

In one year I have managed to undo decades of damage. Thank you for allowing me to do so.

Gender Dysphoric Body Dysmorphic

Summer time undoubtedly brings on anxiety for many people. The thought of having to suddenly reveal the body you have comfortably hidden under winter clothes can be devastating for some. Those of us with Body Dysmorphic Disorder will find ourselves begging for just one more week of sweatshirt weather. The more clothes and accessories you can wear, the easier it is to cover up the presumed inconsistencies and flaws.

Everyone has a part of them they aren't happy with. Body dysmorphic disorder goes beyond the typical criticizing we all do in front of the mirror. BDD dominates the life of the sufferer. BDD is a preoccupation with perceived defects of the body. For me, the preoccupations control my daily life. They come first, everything else revolves around them. Coupled with fluctuations in gender perception, my day can be quite confusing and always uncomfortable.

I, unlike most BDD suffers, avoid mirrors. I do not know who I see in the mirror. I do not understand why anyone would want to know what I see in the mirror. When I picture myself in my head it is not what I see in my reflection, both in looks and body shape and size. I like who I am inside yet extremely dislike what the majority of the world sees.

My heart breaks for those that live in a completely wrong body. My gender may not fit all of the time, but it does fit some of the time. I cannot imagine the pain and misery of never relating to the body you travel in. And while not all people with gender identity issues have BDD, I would have to think that it runs rampant in that community.

According to the professionals, BDD sufferers can spend upwards of 8 hours of their day comparing the unattractiveness of their body with the body parts of others. I spend a considerable amount of my day doing this. Each day I hope to find someone that looks like me. Someone that I can say "Hey they have the same defects and they are comfortable with themselves." Unfortunately that day has never come. Each day I look at every single person I pass or see. And each day I see that no one looks as bad as I do. No one has the defects I do. Each day I know every one of them is saying "I am glad I don't look like that" about me.

I am a highly intelligent person. I have spent numerous years in a therapeutic environment for many "disorders". I can rationalize the nonsense of BDD very easily, yet I cannot escape it. Just as I cannot make myself fit my gender completely, I cannot make myself be OK with the things I obsess about regarding my body.

I am gender dysphoric and body dysmorphic and I am hoping summer never gets here.

I Won't Care if They're Gay

I don't know if they named me
But papers call me Liam
I'm not sure who I look like
I never got to see them

I've been to many houses
But none have stayed my home
Just when I'm feeling settled
I find myself alone

I want a bed
I want a dog
I want somewhere to stay

I want a home
And family
That loves me every day

I had straight parents from the start
Yet both just walked away
If new ones love me endlessly
I won't care if they're gay

Next time the laws come up for vote
Remember how I feel
The loneliness inside my heart
Is something very real

~EB 2011

I have you all to thank

"I love the you no one gets to see but me." A line from a movie the other night that my wife repeated to me several times that evening as well as emailing it to me the next morning. Each time she said it I answered in my head or aloud "that's about 90% of me." I have never been someone else to most people, I just have never allowed most people to know who I am completely, or at all. Most of my life has been spent staying in the role that people can relate to easiest and without much question. The most controversial thing I am to most is a lesbian. Some days that is hard enough for the majority to handle.

Since I began this blog less than a year ago, I have allowed you all to travel my journey of self discovery and acceptance of who I am along with me. I have gone back and reread some of my entries realizing I am still finding things in those words about myself that surprise me. Sometimes it feels like I am reading a stranger's writing. I find myself captivated by the words and feeling a bit uneasy that I displayed them for the world to see. I get to know me each time I write and again when I read it. Its a never ending process that I would typically never allow people to join me in.

Since I use anonymity in my blog and my columns, I suppose I get a false sense of security. Somehow I assumed a fictitious name would keep people from knowing me. Until now I didn't realize the name had little to do with it. I am still putting myself out there. I am still taking this very real journey. I am still discovering who I am, all names aside. And I am still allowing anyone interested to take the ride with me. For the first time in my life I feel free of a lot of things. Free of a lot of anger, resentment, self loathing and misunderstanding. I feel free of shame and the need to hide. I am finally free of the pounding desire to share who I am with people and not just little tiny pieces to fit into most social circles appropriately.

My wife will always be the only one that knows me, the complete me. Her repeated statement "I love the you no one gets to see but me" holds steadfast. However I am finding there are so many people that do relate, that do see me for most of who I am and haven't run screaming from the complexities. I am no longer 90% inside myself. And I have you all to thank.

Repeating the Cycle

I have spent a lot of time in thought while working on my memoir. This morning I was remembering how emotionally absent my mother was and how mentally abusive her actions and words were. I recalled a time in my life that I made excuses for her behavior. I read reference books explaining the cycle of abuse and self help books that reminded me she too came from somewhere not so pleasant. I spent years putting myself in her shoes, as a child and as a mother. I tried to believe that what she did was because she knew no different. And I continued to believe that, and excuse her behavior, for my entire life. Until now.

I know my mother was raised with a very strict mother herself. I know that perfection was the only option. I know she was told again and again that what she did and how she acted was a direct reflection on her mother. I know that she could never have reached the bar that would have been set too high. I know this, and I lived in the same moments a generation later. I feel for her. I feel sorry for what she endured. I feel sorry for the person it made her and the way she loathed herself to the point of mistreating others for comfort. I know she was a child once, a sad one. I know her story like a book, because it is written in my own.

Looking back on my traumatic childhood; the pain my own mother caused and the pain she refused to acknowledge that others put me through, I can easily see what shaped many of the obstacles I still struggle to overcome. But the thing I see clearest is that I too grew up in the same environment yet with much worse additions than she did. I too felt the wrath of a obsessive compulsive manic. I felt it so much I became it as well. However the books forgot to mention that just because it typically trickles down and repeats itself, it doesn't have to, and it didn't.

Instead of repeating the cycle, I became the mother I never had; the mother I wished I did. Though exhausting mentally and physically, I overcame the challenge of giving into behaviors my childhood created because I knew they were wrong. I put myself second, always, even when I was screaming for someone to put me first. I have spent my entire life trying to understand why such a strong willed person such as my mother was too weak to do the right thing. I no longer make excuses for her. I no longer feel sorry for where she came from. What I feel sorry for is that she couldn't find a way to sacrifice a bit of herself to make sure I never had to feel like her. I know she couldn't have liked how it felt.

I am not a perfect mom or a perfect partner. But I am not a casualty or a victim. Everyday I struggle to make it to the next day with everyone I am responsible for feeling OK. And although my closet still holds its skeletons, repeating the cycle will never be one of them.

I am learning

I was thinking about how many opportunities we miss in life due to fear and expectation. I was brought up to put others first. I know it was probably not the most sound advice, but not much of what was instilled in me was. I had a mother who constantly reminded me that I should never seek out happiness. That if I was deserving, it should come to me. If things that I felt I needed didn't miraculously appear, I was not worthy of them. And that putting myself first was selfish. She always told me that if I had to ask for something emotionally I would never get it honestly. I believed that saying I needed something, asking for help, or admitting I was hurt would only make people pacify me, that I was getting those things falsely; there was nothing genuine in receiving what you had to ask for. She made me believe that if people cared for me and loved me they would know what I needed. And if they didn't know, I was unworthy of having it.

As an adult I can rationalize the absurdity in those teachings. I can tell myself I am worthy, and that no one else can possibly know what I need. I am able to understand the concept that asking for something emotionally does not make you weak. I even understand that people need to put themselves first in order to be able to be there for others. I get it. I just don't know how to do any of it.

For a lot of different reasons, some of us consistently put the needs of others before ourselves. I do it because I was taught that my needs didn't matter. For others it may be entirely different. Whatever the reason, when you put other people before your own well being, mentally or physically, you run the risk of losing who you truly are. You pass up opportunities that may have shaped you and your life into something completely different than it is now. If you put off doing something you need to do for yourself because someone else depends on who you are the way you are, ultimately you have cheated yourself.

I am slowly teaching myself this lesson. I am attempting to do what I need to mentally for me, and not worry so much about how it effects others. I am trying to undo forty years of thinking that what I need doesn't matter and that if I deserved to feel good I already would. I want to feel worthy and a priority, if to no one else, then to myself. I am learning.

"How come they dont have a gay boy's section?"

I was walking through the clothing section of a major retailer last night with my 13 year old daughter. We were looking for socks that were long enough to go up over her knees. She likes to wear them for protection when sliding in softball. We started at the ladies section, then traveled to the boy's section. After realizing boys don't typically wear knee socks,and heading to the girls section, my kid said to me "how come they don't have a gay boy's section?" To which I replied, "why would they?" I suggested that if a boy wanted to wear something girly he could always go to the girls section and vice versa. She seemed unimpressed with my thought process and I was glad. While I agreed with her a million percent that additional choices in this world are needed, I am a firm believer in our children making their own assessments about the world, not just taking on their parent's.

"I think they need to have another section for those people that don't like just girls or boy's clothes, but something more in between".

I smiled proudly to myself, nodded my head and said "I would shop there for sure."

Gut Instincts

Yesterday my life may have ultimately been saved by my gut. Long story short, I allowed an eighteen wheeler to move in front of me rather than make him wait until I passed him. As soon as I did, I felt completely panicked and knew I 'had' to change lanes. I was so panic stricken that I actually cut another car off in order to get out from behind the truck. The very second I crossed into the new lane, the truck's tire and part of his wheel flew off and was sent flying 70 miles an hour directly behind him where I had been just one second before. I cannot explain how I knew to leave that lane at that moment, but this was not an isolated incident.

I have been 'feeling' things before they happen all of my life. Sometimes it comes to me in words, sometimes in pictures and sometimes in emotion. So far I have been unable to tap into the gift of my sixth sense and use it as I want to, but I get a chuckle every time it happens. Yesterday I was very thankful for it. This morning I started to think about the things our gut tells us and how true it is that you should trust what it says. I trusted my gut yesterday because the panic felt raw and I acted on instinct. That was a good move. However, I have had many situations where my gut told me to do something and I took too long to listen.

We all have our doubts in certain situations. Sometimes our own insecurities lead us to question the actions of others. Many times when our gut speaks to us, we question its validity, especially when it presents a potential uncomfortable outcome. And just as many times we allow our fears to manifest as gut feelings and believe them. As humans we are programmed to take the path of least resistance. Our gut instinct has not followed the same evolutionary path. Our gut instinct is still very much that, instinct. I do not believe it is influenced by our conscious wants and needs. However I think our wants and needs influence how we perceive that moment of instinct and how we allow it to effect us.

Trust your gut. But only in that instant. Insecurities are not instinct.

Well written, sound advice: Sex education

(reprinted with permission)

Letter To My Son: The Birds & Bees Letter
By Jo LeGall

"Got notice that your health class will be on the 19th so I'm writing this now and mailing it later. Not sure I could have done this in person without fidgeting. Wanted to pass on some advice I wish they taught during health class. Advice I never got from my parents either, if you count the warning to not come home if a. sick or b. pregnant. So here it is, enough stalling:

1. The number 1 prevention of HIV/AIDS is to get tested at the same time. That means you and your partner. Not knowing your status or their status is the top cause in the spread of HIV/AIDS. Assumptions get folks infected.

2.Using a condom is your responsibility to yourself. No one is going to say "Hey, I'm positive" or "I've got x,y,z." then hand you a convenient rubber.

3. Condoms don't protect for everything. N-9 might kill sperm but it does not kill the HIV virus or STDs. In fact, N-9 actually increases your risk of getting HIV/AIDS. That's why number 1 is so important.

4. Don't even think about kids unless you can financially multiply your income by two, all by yourself. That is what it will cost to raise a kid as a single parent. Multiply by three if it is you, a partner and baby. One of you won't be able to work full time and take care of a new born. You remember how hard it was when Mike (baby bro) was tiny. (this was around the custody trial and my eldest took over diaper changes, bottle feeding etc at the age of 5 and potty training at age 8. Convincing me that my ex is an ass.)

5. There are different types of sex. Most classes say to abstain from vaginal sex or anal sex to prevent pregnancy, STDs, and HIV/AIDs. Well oral sex is sex too. You can contract an STD from oral sex and having an STD increases your chances of getting infected, regardless of which side of the exchange you are on.

6. Condoms break, or come off during sex, or a partner can poke holes in it to make you a parent or get back at you. Always bring your own and put it on yourself. Make sure you're also holding on to the end closet to you when done. Condoms have been known to disappear inside, which kind of defeats the purpose.

7. Make testing a part of your check up, and a part of your dating conversation before sex. You're both adults. Well, you will be then hopefully.

8. Get real familiar with state laws on sex. They do have them and let them guide you when dating. In New Jersey, the age of sexual consent is 18. That means it's illegal for someone over 18 to date you if you're under. Prison sentences are anywhere from 5 to 30 years. In New Jersey it is statutory rape to have sex with anyone 13 and younger. So, no dating for you until age 15 mister! The sentence for aggravated sexual assault of a minor 13 and under is 10 to 20 years. Plus being listed as a sex offender. Which means, no contact with anyone under the age of 18. Which means no more school, no chance of a good job, no college and no family since you'd have to move out.

Sex with anyone under the age of 15 when you are 18 will get you a sentence of 5 to 10 years and registered as a sex offender. So, no dating until you're 15 mister and make sure they're in the same grade! I can't tell you not to have sex, although I really, really want to. Just make sure you are physically and legally safe. Remember "no means no" and that goes for you too. If you say "no" they have to respect you. Pushing the issue is a big sign of disrespect.

9. You are either sexual or asexual. You either have sexual interest in one or both sexes or you have romantic or platonic interest in one or both sexes. That would have cleared a ton of things up for me but you experience life by trial and error. Whether you have sexual interest or no sexual interest is fine. There's also no wrong person to have an interest in. They may be wrong for everyone else and perfect for you. Perfect for you is all that matters.

10. A good relationship is built on more than love. There is trust, honesty, respect and communication. That person you are with must love you just the way you are and you should feel the same. If they find some part of you disgusting, disappointing or whatever, that's not love baby boy.

11. Spend within your means. If you cannot afford something don't buy it. If your partner knows you can't then the gift you can afford will be twice as nice. Trying to impress with who you are not is not being honest, respectful, trusting or communicating. Not a good way to start a relationship. If you can lie about the little things no one believes the important things.

12. Always know that I love you just the way you are. There is naught that you could say or do that could stop me from loving you. My biggest concern will always be that you love yourself as unconditionally as I do.

Now pass this letter on when it's your brother's turn in Health class. It applies to all of you. I love you. I miss you.

Love Mom

Pray the Gay Away?

Last night's airing of Pray the Gay Away? on the Oprah Winfrey Network left me with so many things to ponder. Being gay myself, and quite comfortable with that part of me, I found myself easily angered at what seemed to be complete ignorance on some people's parts. However, when I put my anger aside, I was able to see that these people were not truly ignorant, they were in fact victims of the utmost damaging brainwashing I have ever seen.

I personally don't care how I 'became' a lesbian. If it was genetic, environment, trauma or a combination, it matters not to me. I am what I am and who I am and I how I got here really doesn't effect what I think about myself. However, anyone watching that program, gay or not, would be able to pick the gay-turned-straight guy out of a crowd of a thousand as a gay man. His appearance, his speech, his fluidity were very apparent. For someone who has been 'changed' to a straight man, I find it hard to understand why his mannerisms didn't change to straight ones as well. If his gayness was a behavior that could be changed, why was the sexual aspect the only thing about him that changed and nothing else? Why? Because he is still gay.

Anyone can change a behavior. I can go sleep with a million men if I wanted to. Does that make me a straight woman? No, it makes me a lesbian that just slept with a million men. Our sexuality isn't just about who we sleep with. It explains who we are as people. It effects who we relate to and connect with. Sexuality doesn't just equal sexual acts. Our actual sex lives, for the most part, are a very small part of what we do, yet for gay people it becomes all of how they are perceived. Confusing sexuality with sexual acts is why someone that doesn't understand same gender intimacy projects their disgust onto the gay person as a whole. It makes sense that these same people would then assume by changing the sexual act someone partakes in ultimately changes their being.

I am not a religious person. I made the decision not to be. However I believe anyone should have the opportunity to believe what they want and need to. It saddened me to see the children in this documentary growing up believing in their God yet thinking the God they expect to save them is the same God that is condemning them. The confusion that God would put someone "broken and wrong" on this earth, and that person is you, is a very difficult concept for a child, or anyone for that matter, to swallow. Growing up gay is very difficult to begin with. Growing up gay in a religious environment that doesn't accept you as a person is devastating.

I understand the reason programs that promote gay to straight conversion therapy exist. I understand for some life would be made "right" if only they could find a way to change. What I don't understand is why who you love and who you are intimate with dictate how you rank as a human being. And I don't understand how falsifying a behavior and lying to yourself makes you a better person than someone who is true to who they are and others.

Online Dating

I received an Email inviting me to join an online dating site. Because I have been in a committed relationship since 1997 I always laugh at online dating sites because my wife and I actually met online before it was fashionable and easily accessible. I scrolled through the Email and noticed the site was geared toward butch and femme women. It also noted categories such as ftm, mtf, genderqueer, stud, aggressive, stonefemme, stonebutch, and the list goes on. I realize I am getting older, and that I am in my fourth decade of life, but somehow the need to micro-label myself must have gotten past me.

Immediately I tried to stick myself in one of the categories; thinking, if I were to create a profile how would I described myself. "I Am" (check box) Genderqueer. "I Am Seeking" (check box)....um......um.....why must I choose? Hell, I don't even know what half of them mean. When did we as a community become so segregated that we all have to have tiny little communities within a community?

Labeling ourselves is indeed an identifier. It does help others recognize us. Unfortunately, allowing ourselves to focus on them severely limits the interactions we have with others as well as potential relationships. My wife is not someone I would typically "pick out" of a lineup. As a matter of fact, none of my long term relationships were. She also doesn't have a label. She is a woman. She is a lesbian. She is a lot of things to me, but none of those boxes. Admittedly, she was unaware of some of them too. So lets assume, hypothetically, that I joined the dating service, and she did too. I can almost guarantee, that even after having been in a relationship for almost 15 years, we would not find each other on there. Why? Because you cant label who you are inside. You cannot label what you need in a person. You can not put a label on what completes you.

I think back to our own online story. We met in a chat room. We spent hours, days, weeks and months talking among a group we all grew to know so well. And while we didn't meet face to face for quite some time, the communication was open and allowed us to get to know each other. Had I seen only her name on a list, or a profile photo, or the statement that she was a married straight woman many miles away, I would not have given her a second thought. I would have passed on something that became my everything.

We cannot box ourselves in so tightly that those that aren't like us, or aren't what we are used to get no chance to know who we are. Choosing your connections by labels is like walking through life completely unaware. I cant imagine what my life would be now had I opted for an "I Am Seeking" box. But I do know it wouldn't be what it is today.

Pride Stickers

While commuting this morning, I noticed the car in front of me sporting a rainbow colored peace sign. My first instinct when I see a pride sticker on a person's car is to peer through the window and make my assessment on who in the car is gay, who might or might not be their partner and wonder if the kids in the back were conceived through IVF or are just visiting relatives. My gaydar kicks on and I make sure to stay within a certain distance until I am sure I have sized up the situation and pacified my curiosity.

Passing judgment because I can relate is still passing judgment. I had no idea what the orientations of the occupants of the car were, I assumed. I assumed because they advertised a reason for me to assume. I was guilty of seeing something that registered as homosexual and ran with it, guilty of what I so strongly oppose in others. I told myself I just wanted to feel the connection. Belonging to a small community, it makes sense to try to recognize those similar to you. That's where it should have ended; happy to see an openly gay person driving to work like I was. Instead I tried to sort out their personal life, something that is none of my business; something that I cannot accurately do without personally knowing these people.

The rest of my commute was spent in thought. Advertising who we are enables the world to see just how infiltrated we are with everyone else. However, it also opens the door for judging and hate to find an easier target. Some days I feel I should be loud and proud, other days I have the attitude that if I want to be treated like the rest of society I need to just act like the rest of society; that drawing attention to my differences keeps me at arms length. I suppose there are arguments for both thought processes.

I don't have a sticker on my car. I did once, but my daughter asked me to take it off. I drove her to school each morning. She had no fear of being picked on for having two moms, she just didn't understand why I had to advertise. I recall her saying "Mom, you don't see straight stickers on people's cars, you are no different." She was more concerned that the sticker would give people a reason to judge me without knowing me.

Smart kid.

Bucket List

A while back a friend was talking about her bucket list. During that time I wasn't feeling particularly well and couldn't put much thought other than feeling well into what my bucket list would consist of. Today I saw the mention of a bucket list in someone's post and it reminded me I wanted to revisit the idea of creating my own.

I was quite surprised at how difficult it seemed to make this list. I started wondering if I had become so dull that coming up with the thought of experiencing something new and exciting was too far of a reach. I wondered if I was subconsciously keeping myself from wanting more than I deserved. I told myself that a bucket list was supposed to be selfish, and that it was OK to desire things, especially those you have sacrificed for a greater good like marriage and family. I reminded myself that selfish doesn't always mean self centered. That selfish also pertains to the feel good we experience when doing something good for someone else.

Taking all that into consideration here is the far from complete list.

Publish my book
Get a breast reduction
Travel out of the country
Get married, for real
Buy someone a car
Learn French
Have a session with Ellen Fisher Turk
Go ballroom dancing
Learn how to play the guitar and piano
Save someone from themselves
Feel comfortable in public with my spouse
Visit Victoria Falls
Have someone famous record my song lyrics
Own a dungeon
Spend a weekend completely alone in the middle of no where
See the Northern Lights
Throw a huge party
Walk at least one of my children down the aisle
Have a closet just for boots
Feel well for one entire day

To be continued......

Newlywed Game

I glanced at the television as I walked by the other day and noticed the Newlywed Game was on. I often like to answer the question silently in my head and even throw them out aloud to my better half to see how she would answer them. One particular question I couldn't seem to find an answer to was "what about your partner would you like smaller, and what would you like larger?" The physical answers the contestants came up with primarily pertained to "boobs". The non physical ones were also fairly non specific "smaller mess, smaller anger" basically anything that wouldn't result in a war back in the hotel room after the show.

Typically I would have turned to my wife and asked her to answer the questions. I did not however. The realization that I would learn that she wasn't happy with parts of me was more than I could handle. I took a quick inventory of my body parts and wondered what she would pick. Most likely, had I asked the question, she would have chosen her answers carefully and diplomatically knowing my sensitivities. For that I love her. But truth be told, I wouldn't have believed they were the honest answers. My inventory included everything that doesn't seem to fit proportionately. I think about the curvy, fit women I am not. I think about the androgynous genderless person I feel but again, am not. I think about the masculine dyke, again, no. I don't fit anything, and surely she sees that. She may not love me less, but she has to recognize all the parts don't fit the package. A bag of mixed parts. She must have a preference, and I am probably not it.

I took a minute to think, if I asked for her answers, she might reciprocate and ask me for mine. What would I answer? My inventory taking turned to her body. I came up blank. I wouldn't want anything bigger. She is already taller than me and bigger than me. Some days I hate that I am so small. I thought about what I would want smaller. She is a big girl. But would I want her smaller? I really don't care. I want her to be however she is comfortable being. So no, I wouldn't want her smaller if she didn't want herself smaller. I pictured all the parts of her bigger and smaller, morphing her in my mind. No picture made me want or love her any more or differently than I do now.

I wonder why it is so difficult to believe someone else could feel that way about me?

On The Inside

Looking into the mirror this morning, I realized it was a day when I don't look on the outside how I feel on the inside. I got thinking about the gazillion times I have heard people say, "Its who you are on the inside that matters". While I agree with that statement, I felt a little resentful that the phrase doesn't pertain to me. Who I am on the inside is the basis for everything people judge me for. Who I am on the outside is pretty typical and unnoticeable. The inside is where my identity, my sexual orientation and my past lies. The very things that have the ability to make me ugly and unworthy to a great majority of ignorant closed minded people. And while I recognize the fact that they mean nothing to me, it is those same hypocritical people that make the "its who you are on the inside that matters" statement when they or their loved ones are being cruelly judged.

When I have to face the stranger in the mirror I don't see who I am, I pick apart everything that is not what it is supposed to be. I look to my maturity and knowledge for comfort. I tell myself I know who I am and I am comfortable with that. I try to convince myself that others don't matter, but in reality, they do. Today I wondered, as the years slip by, will there ever come a time when I step in front of that mirror and see myself, not someone else using my insides as a way for their outsides to get around.

"It's who you are on the inside that matters". If that is so, then why do so few people bother to look there?

Straight Women

The book I am reading touches on an intimate relationship between two women,one lesbian and one straight. The story takes me back to a time in my life when I preferred to court straight women. I always loved a good game of cat and mouse. I loved the chase and the conquest. I loved the attention. Although being the token lesbian in the group gets tiring, I never exhausted of straight women needing to know that if they wanted to, I would say yes to them. Now that I am older, and a whole lot wiser, I know their attention had little to do with me, a lot to do with their own ego.

As I am reading I am reminded that I struggle daily with the thoughts of "When will she remember what she liked about men and return to them?". Even after fourteen years of being together, it has never left my head. In days past I didn't care. Men were not a threat to me, they still aren't. However that is my perception of them, and I cant possibly know what anyone else truly feels. I worry endlessly that the sex is not enough, that although I can connect in ways no man can, I cannot do what they do. Not really. Will there come a time when she misses that more than she enjoys me?

I love straight women. I always have. There is something innocent yet fiery about them. Those first moments are indescribable. To feel the unbridled passion and freedom pour from them is exhilarating. Unfortunately as soon as she catches her breath, reality typically rears its ugly head. The truths of what it means to be in a same sex relationship surface. The sudden need to hide who they are. The realization that they now have to endure what comes with being a minority. The fact that indeed, the world is very different from this place. For some its worth the effort, for most, it is not.

I have always preferred straight women. I lived for the once in a life time experiences I knew they could never find with their male partners. A long time ago I was happy to forsake an honest relationship for those moments. Today I am a different person. I have not changed, I have evolved. I do not need the conquests and obsessions like I did then. I do not need the attention and the validation. However,as much as those needs have diminished, the need to feel safe has not.

I am hoping for a happily ever after for my book couple's relationship, and for my own.

When Family Counts

I am a fairly patient person. OK, no I am not. But I do understand that change takes time. I also recognize that evolution is a slow process. So I get it that gay rights are progressing at a snail's space, but they are progressing none-the-less. I don't consider myself oppressed, as I feel that places a very negative value on who I am. I consider myself unfortunate to share the world with bigots, unwarranted hatred and a whole lot of ignorant people. The point at which my patience truly stops and my understanding goes out the window is when my children come under attack simply for being my children, and my family is not recognized as such.

I am well aware of the lack of rights I have in regard to marriage. I realize I have no claim on my wife's estate or her on mine. I know we are not afforded the same benefits through the government as our heterosexual counterparts. That being said,I should at least have the right to dictate who I choose to call family. My children do not legally belong to my wife who is the head of household according to the Census. That in essence denies any of us in the household to state we are a family, including me and my biological children.

According to the 2010 Census, I am a single person and there are two children living in the house. My wife is just a single person in the house. With no sexuality questions on the form, and the Census' lack of recognition of same sex marriage and relationships, the counts are skewed beyond belief. The purpose of the census is to acquire population data. That data is used to allocate funding, provide adequate social and health policy, and determine economic policies.

How can the gay and lesbian community be counted and taken seriously if on paper they don't even exist? How can policy makers take a look at the benefits or lack there of for providing services, marriage equality etc to the community when it doesn't accurately know who the community consists of? Most of all, how can they make the determination that my children are not part of a family because I am not the head of the household?

I may not have the peace of mind knowing that my wife will get my social security benefits or even that my same sex relationship is recognized by the government, but I thought I had the right to claim my own children as my family. If I lived alone they would be my family but since I am committed to a partner and our family as a whole, somehow it has diminished all meaning on paper.

I am Not George Bailey

We all know George Bailey, the man whose imminent suicide was sideswiped by Clarance, an angel, in order to show him that indeed his life did effect others. For even the most despondent of people, you would be had pressed to find someone that their lives haven't touched. We all touch people in one way or another. Our actions have a cause and effect like everything else. We are responsible for certain occurrences. There is no way we could exist and not leave a blueprint. However, not all of us are George Bailey. Some of us would have a very different experience if Clarance came to visit. Obviously if I had not been born, my children would not have been either. They owe their existence to my saving mine as a teen. However, aside from that, I think Clarance might have a bit of a struggle convincing me my lack of existence would have diminished many people's experiences.

For a very long time I have been the scapegoat for many other people's unwillingness to accept responsibility for their own actions. Somehow my existence has been the reason for others misfortune's. And while I know, in reality, their issues are what cause their accusations, it is exhausting to constantly pretend the blame doesn't effect me. From the time I was a young child I was the scapegoat for everything my mother hated about herself. Everything from my bed wetting to my childhood rape was somehow my fault and a way to make her look bad. When I came out in high school, I was to blame for the shame my family name would now have to carry. As an addict I was to blame for my addiction and the shame that too caused the family. As a pregnant homeless young woman I was to blame for my circumstance, not the parent that evicted from their rental property so they could live in it when their home was condemned for lack of care. As an adult I am still being blamed. Blamed by others who feel my existence is keeping them from benefiting. That my relationship has hindered their ability to have a healthy life. That somehow I have been the sole reason they have been unable to achieve happiness.

I have learned that there will always be people that will try to sabotage your happiness because they cant seem to find their own. And I have learned that these are not real blames to carry on my shoulder, and yet, some days I find them there. They are coupled with sadness for those that need to drag me through the mud to feel better. But no matter how I rationalize, they are still heavy.

Today I seriously thought about George Bailey and all the horrible things that would have happened if he hadn't been there. I didn't feel like George. I felt that so many people would have "been much better off" without me causing such pain to them. That Clarance would have showed me a bunch of narcissistic people finding their way much easier without me as their roadblock. And as much as I know someone else would have been their target, for just a moment, nonexistence seemed a much lighter load to carry.

The Elderly Couple

While sitting in the "waiting room" waiting for my chest xray, I took the opportunity to people watch. Oftentimes I try to imagine what people's lives are like. I think about what their house looks like, where they work, if they even work, what might be on their meal plan for dinner that evening. I wouldn't say I am judgmental, just curious.

An elderly couple came in just as I sat down to do my waiting. The man was pushing the woman in a walker/chair type device. She was facing him in the seat. It looked awkward, but it got the job done I suppose. I watched them intently. She was obviously a victim of some sort of terrible osteoporosis or rheumatoid arthritis. They both had to be in their 80's. After settling the chair/walker in a place as to not be in the way, the elderly gentleman took off his hat and gloves. He placed the gloves in his pocket. He proceeded to stand in front of his wife and help her remove her gloves. With no words being said, she grabbed hold of the walker and stood up so her husband could put her gloves in her pocket. He then proceeded to remove her hat, scarf and coat like they had done this a million times, and probably had. When she was settled back in her chair, the man took off his glasses and tucked them in his shirt pocket. In that same pocket was a pack of tissues. He took one tissue out, proceeded to fold it gingerly and used it to wipe his wife's nose. It was at this point that I was very moved. I looked at others watching them. I could tell by their faces most of them were simply thinking, "damn, glad that's not me." I could not help but think, "Damn I hope that is me". Maybe not today, but when that time comes I want to know I have someone that cares for me in all respects or that I can care for them; to believe that the commitment I make now will carry through to those fragilest of times.

I began to recall what I used to think I needed and wanted in a partner. Its amazing how differently I think now to even just ten years ago. The things that seemed so important in a relationship replaced by what truly is important. As I watched that elderly couple I tried to picture what their life used to be, dinners, dancing, raising children, and what it consists of today. I am sure he dresses and undresses her daily. Most likely he feeds her and baths her. They probably cant share a bed anymore. I imagine he tends to everything in the house and everything relating to her care. I saw no resentment in his eyes. When he looked at her he seemed so proud to be with her, to do for her, to love her.

That, to me, is what its all about.