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Letting Go

21 Jun

This entry has been rolling about in my brain, asking to get out even though I don’t feel like it’s necessarily a fully formed, cohesive piece of written material. It’s just a blurb, a piece of my mind without a lot of context. Something I think about often.

Whenever I am in one of “those” heated conversations with a family member or significant other (and they don’t happen often, but they DO happen), I am frequently accused of being demanding. It’s true. I am. I hold my friends and family to very high standards.

Not that I’m some kind of control freak, unforgiving beotch. I just expect a lot out of ya’ll, because you’re amazing people.

But the thing I figured out recently, about why that statement used to get me so Fired Up and mad, is this: you think I hold you to high standard of performance? Be me for just one day. I used to be on constant criticism mode. Nothing was good enough. Fast enough. Clean enough. Perfect enough. The Critic in my head would not stop.

Thankfully, between coming out and doing some major soul-searching, the Critic and I have reached an understanding. I get that she just wants things to be okay, to be right. But it comes across as controlling at times, and she has to understand that sometimes the best thing is to let go.

Be in the moment. Accept mistakes as things that happen instead of terminal definitions of someone else’s character or capabilities. Realize that what someone else does isn’t always about me, and sometimes there’s nothing I can do about it.

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Re-evaluating Relativity

27 May

Tonight I got to spend some time with my very good friend Mary Jane. She’s so much fun. Any little bit of time with her just lights up my day. Today she graduated with a teaching certificate in her field so getting to see her was extra special. Plus, watching the latest episode of Glee together definitely helped.

When I got home, I was reflecting on my time in Kansas and how much things have changed. I came here a married, brand-new first-time mom, waiting on her husband to get back from a deployment to Iraq. I am leaving (almost) divorced, a confident mom of an amazing nearly-four-year-old, new college graduate with a kick-ass degree, my own business, and recently out of the closet to everyone… and proud of it.

I mean, hello?! Monumental life changes much?

One of the things I have always embraced in my life is the knowledge that I have NO idea what the next year will bring. I can look back one year from any point in my life. And I never would have imagined what was coming next. I realize that’s a terrifying prospect for some people. Both as it relates to it happening to them, and as it relates to it happening to someone with whom they are in a committed relationship.

I get that. Really.

But it’s not me. I relish the constant reincarnation of self. The major things, like what I listed above, aren’t typical changes for me. The small tweaks of self-realization on a daily basis are the changes that drive the larger cog of my existence.

What’s amazing is seeing how far I’ve come in such a relatively short amount of time (considering the length of the average life span, and taking out of consideration the fact that I still think I’m going to die when I’m 45)… and thinking about how much more I have to see and experience.

It’s all relative to where you’ve been.

On the line of relativity, tonight I also thought about how amazing it has been to make new friends over the past few months, mostly since I’ve come out. I’m finally getting to know people as myself. The closest thing I’ve been to my true self, ever. I don’t have some subconscious lump in the back of my throat, I am more relaxed, I am so much more in the moment now.

Because I can finally just be me.

Here Goes Nothing

25 May

I’m back out there. I’d like to say “and better than ever” but that will remain to be seen. Instead of trying to pull of an entire blog revamp before I republished my site, I decided to take it a piece at a time.

Part of the revamp is just aesthetic, but part of it is filtering back through all my old entries and editing the names to protect the innocent (and the not-so-innocent). I know it’s not fool-proof. It’s not meant to be. It’s just meant to give a veil of privacy to myself, my friends, and my family.

So! As I get a section of posts updated, I’ll mention it in a brief post in case you’re new here and want to read them, or if you’ve been around since my early days and want to reminisce about the stupid crap I used to do. Either way, I look forward to sharing more with you, as a lot of exciting (good AND bad) things have happened in my life recently, and I feel like I’m finally moving in a great direction.

What I Learned This Weekend

3 Apr

File under “Being a Newbie Homo.” Also, “Learning to Adapt to Being Gay in a Straight World.”

What I learned this weekend can be summed up in the text exchange I had with Hippie Rancher today, about my Saturday night out with two of my straight friends from high school:

HR: Did you meet lots of women?

Me: No, I did not. We stayed one place longer than we expected to hear a band B2 knows. So we didn’t make it to the girl bar.

Me: I got to be a stand0offish bitch to all the straight guys who persisted in hitting on me. On a positive note, I now realize why gay people don’t like to go to straight bars.

And, the story could end there and you’d maybe get the point, but when have I ever let a chance to tell a great story pass me by? Uh, never.

I mean… for serious. I had a wonderful, amazing weekend of chilling with fun people with (relatively) little drama, in Wichita. Friday night, hit up my first MMA fight at a venue featuring local fighters, for a  kids’ charity event.  Great group of people I met through a friend at school. Bought shots for a ring girl. Screamed and jumped up and down while guys pummeled each other. Left wanting to MMA fight. Did a little dancing. Made out with a girl on the dance floor. Left, got DIVINE street ‘dawgs from a vendor — complete with cucumbers, pickles, onions, jalapenos, and chili.  Total heartburn special. Totally worth it. And topped the night off with local greasy spoon Mexican cafe, Rene’s. Colorado burrito? Hell yes. Get one.

Here’s where it gets potentially messy. No one in the group knows I’m gay, except maybe the guy from school but we’ve never had “the” convo.  On the way to drop people off, one of the guys I danced with had me sit in his lap because we were seriously smooshed in this truck. Well, he decides to get out when they drop me off, and follow me to the house. I’m like, “Uhhh… mkay. Maybe he left his car here. Maybe he needs to pee and they’re waiting on him. Maybe he just really wants to have a great conversation.” Really? I know better than that!

But I feel like, since I’ve come out fully, that there should be some external change that other people can recognize the same way I feel a huge internal change from how my life was even three months ago.  And I am still coming to grips with having to have the “gay” conversation with almost every human being I get in to a decent conversation with. Or assumptions are made (like the one that was made this night) and then people get confused. And a little mad.

So, this guy and I sit at the dining room table, alone in B2’s house at 2 a.m. And we have an awesome conversation about spirituality and life after death, and… of all things… our mutual history with WWE/WWF wrestling.  Random, right? My kind of shit. I LOVE meeting people through completely chance encounters and having great conversation. But I digress…

A couple hours later, around 4:30 a.m., this guy says, “Well, it’s late and I’d better either leave or go to bed.”

To which I replied, “I can drive you home if you’d like.”

“You can if you want. I’m just saying that if I crash in a bed with you, there’s a small chance I’ll try to pull something on you,” he threw out there.

After a pause, I managed, “Would it help you not feel that way if I told you that I’m gay?”

Proceed with 45 minutes of him vacillating between asking me questions about being gay, to him being a jerk about the “wasted time and effort” (though he never came out and said that), to him actually STILL trying to get me to sleep with him.  F’real. I finally made the choice for him, and took his ass home.

The next day, I was pissed. Why should I have to justify my sexuality to some dipshit 25-year old kid who only followed me home because he got a boner when I sat in his lap? Why do I even care so much? But most of all: how do I keep this from happening again? I talked to HR about it, and he advocated that I be as up front as possible if a guy starts to invest time in me.  And he also suggested that I dial down the flirtatiousness.  I’m not awful. But I think I have a sort of natural charm that just happens without me realizing it. Until I’m doing it. And then it’s too late to stop.

Saturday night. B2, Virgin Mary, and I are dolled up and ready to rock. If I do say so m’self, I looked pretty awesome. Jeans and rock graffitti Chucks, mohawk in a pomp, black chiffon corset topped with a killer leather vest, 50’s June Cleaver hot pink choker beads, and a huge turquoise ring. Oh yes.

 

What Would Jesus Do?

10 Sep

Excerpts from an Ambien text convo between Ninja and me about my marriage, prompted by a drunk text from Mr. Smith during which he tells me to stay away from him when I come home because he has been drinking and is horny. Then he proceeds to tell me his guitar is his only friend… and I should stay away from the house until he’s asleep.

Me: “You know what pisses me off most is that if *I* was the one getting wasted and acting this way, there’d be no end to the amount of shit I’d hear.”

Ninja: “How much longer can you deal with this?”

Me: “I don’t have a choice.”

Ninja: “I figured you’d say that. It makes me sad for you.”

Me: “What am I supposed to say?
Me: “Oh, I’ll just leave Mr. Smith.”

Ninja: “Where did that come from?”
Ninja: “Do you feel like you cheated on Mr. Smith?”

Me: “I feel like I could have been more communicative about what was about to happen and/or slowed things down with Fathead until I double-checked with Mr. Smith.”
Me: “I take full responsibility for under-communicating that part. But I never lied to Mr. Smith, and he always knew what was generally going on.”

Ninja: “Ok. And I never said you should leave Mr. Smith. I was just wondering how it’s possible for someone who doesn’t believe she is guilty of something like this.”

Me: “How someone “not guilty” can put up with this?”
Me. “Well, I’m still guilty for the demise of my relationship. Things I coulda/woulda/shoulda done, right? Hindsight’s 20/20 and all that.”

Ninja: “Okay. And I never said you should leave Mr. Smith. I just was wondering how it’s possible for you to constantly subject yourself to these phases of his. Man, carrying around that load must be getting kinda heavy. These phases of his, that ultimately punish you, when you don’t believe you cheated.”

Me: “I can’t subject myself any longer. That’s the problem.”
Me: “I’ve been trying to play nice, apologize, give him room to have feelings about it all… he thinks I cheated, so what matters other than how he feels? He’s the victim.”

Ninja: “But you said earlier that you don’t get to stop putting up with it. Is there a difference?”

Me: “Fuck that. I’m done.”
Me: “I don’t get to stop if I want things to work.”

Ninja: “Are you willing to sacrifice yourself day in and day out to make it work? I know a lot about martyrdom. It’s been my life. Trying to be Jesus is not a fulfilling life, believe me. The nails really start to hurt after a while and the cross is fucking heavy. Just so you know.”

Me: “I feel like I should not be laughing at that.”

Ninja: “And I’m probably going straight to hell for that one.”