Known

Standard

You all saw a part of me

A part that isn’t well known

A part that is painful, raw, emotional

It’s a story

My story

Woven with rejection and lost

Sprinkled with happiness and satisfaction

Based on a knowledge

Of who I am and want to be

And a lack of knowledge from those closest

A family that doesn’t know

Who can’t know

It isn’t fair

But it’s what it is

That’s just the facts

The harder part comes later

When you see me

Full of contradictions

Not fully known

But fully here

Aware of what I have lost

Aware of what I have gained

Aware of the pain of knowing

You may say courageous, strong, resilient

I may say perseverant

Or I may say nothing

Words don’t do it justice

For I can’t describe it

Except to say

I felt more known today.

Dear Mom, I’m gay.

Standard

Dear Mom,

I’m gay.

Well, I’m bisexual. I like men and women. It’s not about what gender someone if for me; it’s about the person. I know you won’t understand, and I know you think this is a choice. I fought it for so long, refusing to admit it even to myself. But, no amount of prayer or thought made a difference. I am what I am, and I want to be accepted this way.

I worry you will stop talking to me and stop loving me. In fact, that’s why I haven’t told you. But, you are missing out on one of the best parts of my life. She is my love, my light. I am never happier than when I am with her, and she treats me oh so well. She loves me and cares for me. She is my best friend, my favorite person. She brings out the best in me, and I love her. You’ve met her, but you have no idea how special she is to me. I want to share this with you. I always hoped that my having a serious relationship would bring us together, but now, I worry that it will permanently drive us apart.

Will you be okay with who I am? I know you won’t, but a part of me hopes that you will. I will miss you, Mom. Know that I loved you and will continue to love you, even if this separates us. I will miss you, even though we don’t talk as often as you would like. I still need you, but I will figure out how to do it on my own. Don’t worry about me. You raised me well. I am strong, independent, and compassionate like you. I will be okay. I hope that you will be too. I wish the best for you, and I hope that I do not hurt you too badly with this news. You have been through so much, and I don’t want to make it harder for you. But, I cannot change who I am.

Tell everyone that I love them, and that I will miss them more than they know. Please hug them for me. Should you ever change your mind, I will be here. I will always be your little girl.

I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, my mommy you’ll be.

 

Love,

Your Daughter

The Roles I Play

Standard

I’m afraid that I have lost myself.

For I play so many roles

that I have forgotten which one came naturally.

For those concerned with my soul:

I am straight.

I am whole.

I am made clean.

I am a Christian through and through.

Church on Sunday,

Small groups,

and lies, lies, lies.

For those concerned with my sexuality: 

I am bisexual so

focus on the part that is heteronormative.

Pretend that I am in a phase,

that my girlfriend is someone to have fun with.

Blame it on her.

I know it’s easier for you to swallow that than the biological truth.

I love both.

Men and women.

For it does not matter to me what gender they are

rather if they are the person I want to be with forever.

Love is love,

but love is not loved.

For those concerned with my mental health:

I will not make you uncomfortable

with talk of anxiety and medication.

I will try to pray it away.

I will exercise more.

I will hand it over to the holy spirit.

I will cease to suffer from this imaginary ailment.

Please, tell me that it doesn’t exist,

for at least you will sleep well at night.

For those concerned about my education:

I know I am not supported by you.

No worries,

this I will figure out on my own.

I will achieve my dream,

and you will take credit.

You will be proud.

It’s not fair to reap the benefits

when you have not provided support in the process.

Tell me I’m wasting my time.

Tell me that psychology isn’t a science.

Then post on Facebook about how proud you are.

I want your friends to think you

have had something to do with my success.

But, it will not be you I thank.

For those concerned with my age:

Talk to my mom.

I am

whole

and broken. 

Determined 

and wavering. 

Confident

and anxious. 

Spiritual 

and not Christian. 

Loved

and not straight. 

Supported

and not accepted. 

I am living as I know how, 

and I no longer wish to play a role for you. 

 

 

Longing for a family

Standard

I long for a family. One that loves me unconditionally, understands me, cares about me, trusts me, values me, and wants to spend time with me. I am no longer homesick, so maybe that’s the good thing. Instead, I do not want to go home at all. I do not feel wanted there. I feel like a burden. Someone who gets in the way. What do they need me for anyways? Nothing. I am worth nothing to them. Why is that? Why can’t they just want me? Why don’t they want to be with me? What have I done?
I am so hurt by them. Every time it seems to hurt worse. Every time they abandon me it stings like the first time. I wish I could know what it is like to be loved and wanted by my family.
If my own dad doesn’t love me, what does that day about me? I cannot be loved. I am unlovable? But, am I? If my own mom doesn’t make time for me, who will? Why should they? Who am I to deserve their time?
The people who should have been there always weren’t, and I am longing to belong somewhere.

Where I’ve Come From

Standard

Today I was reminded just how not over it I am. I saw just how much it has affected me and continues to reach into my life and change my views. I have become skeptical at best. Bitter at worst. Angry. Upset. Hurt. Confused. Marriage is tainted. Love is belittled. Fatherhood is destroyed. I’m not sure what a functional family would even look like. I have learned what not to do. How not to treat the ones I love. How much it hurts when the ones who should love you don’t. How much their absence continues to haunt you. How much a girl needs her dad. How much someone understanding means. How little everyone truly understands. Today, I am me. I am myself as I am every day. I am created by what I have experienced, and it is only by God that I am who I am. Not my family. I am not my family. My father resides in heaven. One day I will meet Him there, but for now I will wonder. Wonder what it looks like to have a supportive family, a loving father, a god example to go by. I wonder what it would feel like to trust them. To want to be like them. My role models are not them. They are few, but they are wonderful. I would not care to do life without them. I miss them. I miss having people who know my story. It hurts anew every time I have to explain to someone why I am who I am.  It’s a complicated story. Hurt. Despair. Depression. Anxiety. Loss. Confusion. Grace. Salvation. Redemption. Sometimes I forget parts. Sometimes I leave them out on purpose. Sometimes it just hurts too much. Then, sometimes, like today, a nerve is struck, and I remember where I’ve come from.

I have failed.

Standard

She doesn’t understand.

I thought she would, but she has no clue. She doesn’t understand how I feel. She doesn’t get that it’s a problem.

She says that everyone had anxiety. That may be so, however I used to not have it like this. I just need some help getting back to normal. I know it can be done. I’ve lived my entire life without much anxiety until a few months ago.

She says it won’t go away. She says I just have to deal with it. That’s how I know she doesn’t understand. If she did, she would know that this isn’t normal. This isn’t something I just deal with. This is something I need to fix.

It was such a huge step for me to start therapy, and she didn’t even try. I gave up my time, and she had nothing to say to me or ask me. I gave up time with my family to come to see her. She doesn’t know what I gave up. I could stayed an extra night. I miss them so much. I need them, but I thought I needed this too.

No one else should go see her. I feel worse. I feel weird. I feel strange. I feel like I can’t be helped. I feel like I’ve failed. I feel messed up. I feel embarrassed. I feel anxious.

How can she not help me? How can she tell me that there’s nothing else she can do? She didn’t even ask the hard questions. She knows nothing about me. She didn’t even bother to remember what she did know about me.

I am not going back. I gave it a try. It backfired. I am left hurt and confused.

I am anxiety.

Home

Standard

Home.

I don’t know where that is anymore. College is conflicting like that. Most of your life is in your college town, but you lived 18 years of your life in another town where your family still lives. When I’m at one I refer to the other as home. No matter where I am always on my way home.

I don’t know if home is where my school, friends, and most of my time is spent or if it is where I grew up and where my family is.

I struggle with feeling at home. I struggle with feeling like I am not really at home anywhere. No matter where I am, it is temporary. I need that security of home. I miss it.

I miss knowing my place. I miss knowing I had a place somewhere. That I was irreplaceable. That I was wanted and loved. That I was missed when I was gone.

I am never truly home. I’m not even sure I would know what that feels like. All I know is that this isn’t it.