October 21, 2009
I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve. Right now my guts are out there though. An acquaintance of mine has an open wound in his side — very thin flesh covers and protects his most vulnerable internal organs. He wears layers of protection and walks with awareness that any random, accidental movement could bring him down and possibly end his life. I guess emotional damage isn’t nearly as dramatic. My life isn’t going to end because I am really, really sad about some things. I do feel like I have this layer of cellophane between me and everything else. It’s part roller coaster, part marathon. These ups and down happen and I want to just curl into a ball. And I have a life that requires I pace myself and I keep on going. Which is most likely a good thing– I think being able to indulge ourselves in our bouts of self-pity is rarely a good thing.
What your risk reveals what you value.
You spent me without counting the cost.
I want things, too. I just keep choosing to be here and now.
I worry that you are so used to being the star and the focus that you think you somehow are entitled. That I don’t have a choice. That you can treat me with disregard and say it’s the nature of our relationship. We are in an open relationship, which means we get the freedom to explore opportunities and delights. It doesn’t mean you get the freedom to ignore me or devalue who I am to you when it’s convenient.
September 10, 2009
I don’t really miss the church. It was right for me when I was there and when it no longer fit, I was really angry and hurt. I couldn’t understand how god could reveal the one true religion in our time and it not be quite big enough to include me. When I first left, it was like an amputation of my heart … I knew the people that I loved who were still mormon pitied me at best, judged me at worst. Maybe it was compassion– hindsight gives a different kind of clarity. Maybe underneath the emotions that tore at me, there was an understanding that leaving anything so all encompassing is a journey of pain and discovery.
Sometimes I miss the feeling of community I found there. I found again with the lesbians. It’s a tribal connection that speaks to our herd animal selves. Based on a shared life experience or value system, it is a whole-life investment that only breaks when you discover yourself unable to meet the minimum requirement. What was funny was I didn’t leave because I believed the gospel was untrue. I just came to know that god loved me for who and what I was. And while I have sinned in my life, falling in love with a woman and building a relationship with her is not among those sins. And god would never deny his daughter a place to rest and heal in the midst of that kind of painful emotional growth.
So maybe I was angry for awhile. And it didn’t matter. I kept what I loved from the church — the importance of family and community, a love for the simple things in life, a value for hard work and discipline– it’s not a short list. And when I am full of joy — after a late night of dancing at the lesbian club or a sex party with close friends — I often burst into song, singing the hymns I once sang with my closest friends at Brigham Young University as a student. People get confused, or they laugh, thinking I am mocking the church or myself. But really, those songs will always be about joy and family for me and they will always be on the tip of my heart. Nothing can take that from me or diminish the sacred experience that it is.
August 19, 2009
I find myself wondering that, more and more. I am supposed to start my masters program in the fall and I find myself very ambivalent. I love school. I love learninig. And I feel like it would suck too much of my time from my family. Time that is so precious as they get older and find more and more interests. I am so excited and happy for them. I used to be so afraid I would be like my mother and spend the rest of my life chasing my children– and driving them further and further away. Recently I realized that I get this time, right now. I get 18 years. That’s the longest relationship I have had with anyone, ever. And if that’s all I get, it’s enough. So instead of hoping for later to work out, I am spending now with them. And when it’s time for them to fly away, I will be able to let go.
July 15, 2009
It’s hard not to feel like change in a relationship isn’t loss. I used to crave your time, your touch, like air. Now I savor it like chocolate. Maybe craving is unhealthy. But I loved how it felt to be so very focused and alive. So very aware of your movements. So attune, you that you could literally start to fall and I would catch you, regardless of what else was occuring. Sometimes you don’t get caught, now. You pause and check to be sure I am _really_ there. I don’t always hear the crack of your boots or notice when you leave or enter a room. You miss it and are relieved simultaneously. I am ambiguous. It is change that we didn’t choose. It is change that I accepted to relieve the stress.
I joke that I like to get married, since I keep doing it. This makes me wonder if I will walk the same pattern and path I always have. Will you be another memory I savor or squelch, depending on the song on the radio?
May 13, 2009
I can remember the first time I swore. My childhood playmate, Todd, and I had heard the words we knew were somehow dangerous. So we gathered rotting apples from the front yard of my grandparents home and then hunkered down behind the bushes. As cars passed, we stood up and threw the apples at the cars and shouted some kind of cuss word. I don’t even remember which ones. Probably things like “damn”. I can remember the fear I felt, doing this terribly wrong thing. I can remember the power I felt, doing this terribly wrong thing.
I don’t really feel anything when I cuss now. It’s usually an accident, more than a choice. The power of the words has been lost in repetition and familiarity.