Discontent

As of recent I have come to terms with myself in the realization that...I dont know who I am anymore and move from day to day wanting to end my life. I feel so useless and like everything I've been doing is all such a waste. There's a saying that says "ignorance is bliss" and I'm starting to feel the meaning of that because throughout this year of college and the classes I've been in I have learned possible more than I would ever want to know about the world I live in. In my mind right now everything around me seems corrupted and fake; people, government, the lands, everything... And I have no control over anything...not even the way my own body functions. I'm wondering if it's even remotely normal to feel like this everyday or if there is someone else out there feeling the same depression as me. If there is, I want to meet them and we can heal one another.

Another thing Ive realized is that I have an intensely difficult time crying. I feel like Im crying inside but I cant do it on the outside. I know its strange to want to cry, but I think it would be a great release of tension right now.

Everyday I wake up and repeat the word "hope" in my head over and over and over, so I can make it through just one more day...one more day...

I wonder who, if anyone at all, would notice if I disappeared.

How I Made Myself Free: the formal recapping of my outing experience.

Being a lesbian, I have faced hardships like prejudice, ridicule, and homophobia, but nothing stands out as much as my coming-out experience. Sure, there are arguments about whether we are born gay, if we choose it, or if we are affected by an experience causing us to find comfort in women rather than men; but regardless, gays and lesbians experience multitudes of grief whether they were born that way or not.

I grew up in the middle of Missouri in a tiny town smack dab in the flow of the Bible Belt. It was the perfect example of Conservative America with its Bible thumpers, Sunday-Wednesday-Sunday praisers, before and after breakfast, lunch, and dinner prayers; these things rang through and consumed my everyday view of life as a child.

The first installment of my coming-out was with my family in our living room while we watched an awards ceremony with Ellen DeGeneres as a host. Right away my Dad said something along the lines of “wow, since her outing she’s been all over the place” and at that time I didn’t know exactly what “outing” meant but I definitely knew she was gay so I promptly asked: “what would you do if I were gay?” Silence shortly followed, interrupted by my Dad saying they would love me regardless while my Mom nodded in agreement. I was eight years old.

I can remember from a very young age that I knew I was different. My friends were goo-goo for The Backstreet Boys and Aaron Carter and I was in love with Pink and The Spice Girls, but of course I never admitted that until later. It wasn’t until I was a freshman in high school that I accepted myself as a lesbian. At that time I had an intense need to let someone, anyone, know that I finally knew my true identity; I thought by wearing copious amounts of rainbows I could get the job done. There were days where I would go fully decked out in rainbow necklaces and bracelets and purses. At some point I actually dyed part of my hair rainbow…because I was too scared to fully come-out to the world, so physical representations seemed like the way to go. Then there were the nightly phone-calls with my sister Jennifer to whom I would voice my fear and concerns about being disowned. You see, Jennifer hasn’t exactly had the best luck with our parents either; She was and still is wholesomely attracted to African-American men and stood by her choices and it caused disaster throughout the household when she was a teen. This is why I went to her for advice; she had experience with testing the pressure points of our family. More often than not the conversations ended with me in tears and yet again pushing that fearfully fatal day further away. I knew who I was and I knew the direction my life would take me but I had no idea how to get there.

That seemingly fatal day popped up somewhere near the beginning of my junior year of high school. From what I can remember I spent at least a week trying to think of ways to present this earth-shaking information to my parents. It was a week full of anxiety attacks, crying myself to sleep, confiding in my friends in hopes that if I happened to be kicked out, I would have somewhere to go. Ultimately there was a surge of confidence within myself. The day that I actually came out I didn’t think of it at all. That night I was sitting on my bedroom floor working on some English homework and I couldn’t focus because this inner secret was nagging to get out. The build up towards the actual event was intense; I did some jumping jacks, and pumped myself up for the final destination but as soon as I got to the computer room door where my mom was waiting I literally burst into tears and lost all of the strength that I had built up those past few agonizing weeks. If you can imagine a water balloon filled to its potential and then being punctured with a needle…that is what I looked like. Completely flaccid, hopeless, scared, and exhausted. And then I stood up to her and said “Mom, I’m gay.” The look on her face could have murdered anyone. When I told her, she cried and told me it was unnatural. She feared that it was something she did, something she forgot to do as a parent in my growth that spurred this “activity” and at one point she even considered me a rebel, on my sisters level. “Rebellion” to which neither Jennifer or I understood, we were solely being ourselves. Nonetheless, being the Bible thumping Baptist she is it is almost in her job description to impose the Christian belief upon anyone wrecking havoc on it. In the end she would love me no matter what it came to.

My Dad was a different story all together. He grew up Catholic and went to a private Catholic school when he was younger but as soon as he was on his own never went to church again. My Mom forced me to tell him so that she wouldn’t have to keep that kind of “secret,” so there I was sitting in the same place as when I told my Mom and I cried again but I was stronger this time. Dad cried at the news as well but he told me that his only concern was my being accepted by everyone because the world isn’t always a fair or nice place. He later told me that he was afraid I would never have his grandchildren, and although recent circumstances have proved such impossible regardless of my sexuality, I still planned to adopt. He will love them just the same.

My decision to come-out in high school was based on two factors; my happiness and my sanity. Hiding in that deep, dark closet for at least 14 years truly tested both my happiness and sanity because “being in the closet” is like blatantly lying to everyone around you, including yourself. When I came-out I was in fact involved with someone, which in a way urged me even further to come out because I wanted to be able to share my excitement just like everyone else. I thought it would be better to come out while I was still at home so that my parents could get used to the idea of their daughter being gay…in hopes that it would help them get more comfortable with the facts. As opposed to waiting until I was away at college, coming-out at home it had its advantages because being at home we were forced to see one another day-in and day-out and it helped us get a lot off of our chests. If I were away at college, the news would have set and festered with them for weeks on end before I saw them again and I don’t know from personal experience but I’m sure that could get pretty ugly.

Since my outing I have come to realize that life as a lesbian will never be easy or well understood but with every person I let myself out to I feel that much stronger. Coming-out is also an eye opener to a lot of things within a family. A lot of gays and lesbians see coming-out as this incredibly terrible experience but in reality sometimes it might not be that bad. It has taught me to never underestimate acceptance from anyone, and this goes for everyone, heterosexual or homosexual. We live in a world of vast cultures and ethnic differences; acceptance will always be a building effort. Life for me will forever be a game of coming-out and fighting for acceptance and equality. But because I have accepted that I am a lesbian, a gay woman, another lady loving lady…I am that much stronger and I can do this, live life like this and grow tougher as I grow older.

Oh sweet Jesus...lesbians everywhere.

Its my first real day on campus at the University of North Texas and I love this freedom.

Ive moved all of my junk into my room [and by myself, I might add, woo pride] and it's all situated the way I want it; now all thats left to do is move Claudia in.

Since Ive been here I have:

-applied to be a model

-applied to work wedding receptions

-applied to work at a scrub shop

-moved 5 bags, 2 boxes, 3 pillows, a comforter and a broom into my room

-taken the stairs instead of the elevator 3 times "]

and

-eaten in the cafeteria downstairs.

On the To-Do list:

-check out the rec center

-sleep

-sleep

-do my weight sets

-eat dinner

-possibly run

-meet people

Today, I kissed a girl for the first time. I am a girl and it felt right. MMT