Come On Come Out

Dealing with a closeted lifestyle. Sacrificing your own happiness when all you want is to just come out.

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My shirt came in today!

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Soulmates and Patronuses

In the Harry Potter universe, the form a wizard's or witch's patronus takes has a correlation with his or her soul mate. Examples: Tonks’s patronus turns into a wolf when she is in love with Remus. After the death of Alan Rickman, Freeform (formerly ABC Family) aired some Harry Potter films. I had never noticed before, but I had a major realization regarding this. I have read the books and I checked for these same lines, but I couldn’t find them, but regardless J.K. Rowling gives some major hints to this epiphany I had. During the scene where Harry is seeing Snape’s life with Lily in the pensieve, there’s the whole realization that Snape’s patronus is a doe thus showing that Snape sent the sword of Gryffindor to Harry. During the King’s Cross Scene in the movie, Harry asks Dumbledore, “Professor, my mother’s patronus was a doe, wasn’t it?” Harry then states, “The same as Professor Snape’s, its curious, don’t you think?” And Dumbledore replies, “Actually if I think about it, it doesn’t seem curious at all.” Now.. James’s patronus was a stag, Lily’s patronus was a doe, and they were soul mates. Harry’s patronus is a stag like his father’s and Snape’s patronus was a doe like Lily’s. I think that Harry and Snape were soul mates, not in the romantic sense that one generally considers soul mates, but in the sense that they had this supernatural connection to one another. Snape’s love for Lily transcended death, time, and reciprocation. Lily’s love for Harry transcended death making him survive the killing curse. Snape protecting Harry was his way of loving Lily, but it also bounded them together. The incantation for the Patronus Charm roughly translates to “I await a protector” which is especially fitting for Harry's and Snape’s patronus forms.

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Politics, Presidents, and Patriarchy

I intended to write this post as a letter directed to Gloria Steinem. Ms. Steinem has been a long time advocate for feminism, and that’s why I feel I should hold my angered emotions at the present time and rationalize the true issue at hand. In a recent interview with Bill Maher, Steinem asserted that the young women who support Bernie Sanders for President are doing it because the young men do. Now, I have had times where I have had issues with complacency, loneliness, guilt, and a lack of self worth. When I feel this way, I have a way of expressing those emotions through writing my thoughts. If I feel the numbness of all of those emotions, then I write every detail of myself that I know to be true. I usually start out with a detail of myself most find to be socially unacceptable. For example, I am a conundrum. This to me is not a bad trait. Difficulty makes a reward greater when achieved. I tell myself, yes, you may not make sense to everyone or anyone, sometimes not even yourself, but your quirks are unique to you and only you. I am a single mother who lives with my own zealous mother. I avoid relationships because my son’s life is more important to me than my own, but that’s doesn’t mean I put my own life on hold for motherhood. It means I have priorities. I work a full time job in customer service, and I love what I do. I even like my bosses and one of them is a Trump supporter. I am a feminist. I live in rural Alabama. I live paycheck to paycheck. At the beginning of the year, I check my bank account daily in hopes that my large income tax return check will come through, so I can get ahead. I spend the rest of the year paying my bills a month in advance, so that I can buy Christmas gifts for my large family. I buy my clothes at thrift stores. My son’s clothes come from consignment shops. I only go out to eat during fall and winter and I overtip because I’ve waited tables, so I know how hard it is to get by when the restaurant industry dies down in the cooler months. My father is, we’ll say old fashioned. My mother is a submissive wife. My step dad is a wonderful man. My point is, I do not see the world in black and white, but rather both bright colors of the rainbow and gray shaded areas in between. I have to because I think differently than those who are closest to me. I support Bernie Sanders because he fights for me. His words of equality resonate with me. He has been in office long enough to be called a career politician, but he doesn’t take part in the corruption of politics in this country and never has. He is unwavering in his lifelong mission to help people like me. He is a modern day Abraham Lincoln, telling the masses of our country that we are apart of a government that is meant to be by the people, of the people, for the people. He is the reincarnation of Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream for America, our chance to truly be free at last, free from economic and social ties that separate us. He is the white male against the patriarchy. My approval of Bernie Sanders is not because of a distaste for Hillary Clinton. My political leanings make no judgment of Hillary Clinton based on the media machines jabs at her abilities. Even I can agree that the attacks Hillary Clinton has faced for years, have been unwarranted. I read My Life on the Road, and I found it most compelling the relationship described between Hillary Clinton and her husband former President Bill Clinton. They are true equal partners, and I respect their marriage. I will not allow the perception that Hillary “not pleasing her husband” is in any way deterrent on my vote or even acceptable speech from decent human beings. The media’s false information about the attacks that killed four Americans in Benghazi, and the supposed Clinton “e-mail scandal” had nothing to do with me picking Bernie Sanders over Hillary Clinton. I am not voting for Hillary Clinton, a woman who could possibly be our first female President, because she is wavering. She has voted for legislation that I am personally against. My oldest brother is a veteran who served three tours in the Middle East. I was nine when 9/11 happened, and these years at war shaped my youth and young adulthood. These years of war caused the Great Recession that impacted my life and will now impact my son’s life. As a nine year old in Alabama, I found my parents who were in the middle of an ugly divorce, support a war based on lies despite the fact that they voted for Al Gore rather than George W. Bush. My mother would see her oldest child, a recovering addict, leave home and return with PTSD. Without the help that he so desperately needs to deal with his disorder, he has returned to his old life of drug abuse. Sanders did not support this war in 2002 before I was even old enough to know what war meant, but now I see the effects it has had in my life personally, now I see the effects it will continue to have generation after generation. My grandchildren will still be seeing the effects of Bush and Cheney’s war unless my vote counts. Ms. Steinem, your beautiful words have told me that my vote does count, so I’m going to make it count.

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Seasons Change

Leaves fall, the humid summer air brings a chilly rain with wind that cuts through the core of a person, and sweater weather begins. Autumn reminds me of blissful love and eventual heartbreak. My best love affairs have occurred in the fall, and my biggest heartbreaks in the spring and summer. My love has always been like the colder seasons. It is not cold like the fall and winter, but it is the favorite red sweater, the flannel blanket, the cup of hot chocolate in front of a blazing fire. It is a device used to weather the frigid air. When spring arrives, the cleaning begins, the windows open, the sweaters are stored away, and the need for my love is not needed for six months. I am replaceable. But aren't we all? Even the skimpy summer bikini that keeps a woman looking beautiful and also comfortable is stuffed in a drawer, the white pants are not worn after Labor Day, and the floral dresses put away. A true relationship has both warmth through the cold and uncomfortable heat, sun and rain, and the right person juxtaposes your season. But sadly, seasons must change as we all do. I changed, you changed. She changed you. I'm a brisk autumn wind, moving at a high speed. You are my sun, I'm flying too close you, I will burn up if I don't stop soon. You will rise and set, hide behind the moon and she is your moon. Regardless of the seasons, you will always meet. Sometimes she will hide you completely, and sometimes I can see parts of you glowing through her. But I am only the wind.

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Every Man's Watchman is His Conscience

As anyone who actually pays attention to the literary world knows, Harper Lee's unknown novel that was written before To Kill a Mockingbird, Go Set a Watchman, was published on Tuesday, July 14th. I preordered it on Amazon, so it arrived Tuesday morning, and I finished it today, Thursday morning. It was hard to put down. It wasn't a long read, but the novel says a lot about our past as a country and how our history has continued to repeat itself and will probably always repeat itself for the same hypocritical, bigoted, and prejudiced reasons. Living in the south, I can attest to the importance of tradition, values, principles, and unwritten doctrine of our culture. The south is known for it's overly large portions of food and for it's generosity by use of southern hospitality. Sadly, it's also known for being behind the rest of the country on everything including education, and for having the largest overweight population of the country. I live in Alabama where Mississippi is first in everything terrible except football, and we are second in everything terrible except football. College football is of course our most prized love aside from the good ole Holy Bible. Our secret love for gossip probably ties with the two aforementioned heaven sent adorations, but we wouldn't tell anyone that. These principles of southern society are important to note in order to understand Go Set a Watchman. Spoilers leaked before the release of the novel that Atticus Finch was a racist. The same beloved lawyer from To Kill a Mockingbird who taught a young Scout that "equal rights for all; special privileges for none" was the philosophy that he lived by and that she should live by is now an old man with rheumatoid arthritis who depends on his sister to tie his shoes and button his shirts. Oh and he's also apart of a group of both well-to-do and back woods men who sit in the courthouse listening to prominent white men spew racial slurs and discuss the important of white supremacy. While I do not like to sympathize with prejudice, I found myself understanding Atticus as well as the Maycomb county residents depicted including Henry Clinton, Aunty Alexandra, Uncle Jack or Dr. Finch, and the opposite side Jean Louise, Calpurnia, and Zeebo. Like the last chapter says, "I guess it's like an airplane: they're the drag and we're the thrust, together we make the thing fly. Too much of us and we're nose heavy, too much of them and we're tail heavy- it's a matter of balance." The reason I understand them is because I live with people who share different viewpoints from me who make me feel like vomiting their hatred that has been poured into my mind out of my mouth where it can't stay to harbor any similar bigotry, but I am like Jean Louise, a bigot of my own accord. I am bigoted to believe that my opinions are the only correct and just opinions. Dr. Finch to Jean Louise is a crazy man, but he has an intuitive and nonsensical intelligence that helps Jean Louise realize the importance of her own values. My values are not based on southern tradition, they are not based on my parent's beliefs or my southern culture's idea of acceptable beliefs, they are my own. I do not believe that where I come from is evidence of my character because my self worth is determined by my own conscience, my own island of self preservation, and I believe this should be true for everyone. Atticus believes what he believes because that is what he believes, simple as that and Jean Louise can not change his mind just as he can not change hers and doesn't want to change hers. She is just as important to the community of Maycomb and to society as the racial bigots who say the n word like it's apart of acceptable dinner conversation or the black maids like Culpernia and her drunken son Zeebo, and Atticus acknowledges and respects that. Jean Louise's advocacy of equal rights transcends beyond race to equal rights for women and the low income class. Jean Louise does not want to be like her female peers who marry and have children despite having a successful and respected rags to riches beau, Henry Clinton. Against her aunt's incidence that Hank is trash because of where he comes from, her issues with marrying Hank have nothing to do with these beliefs and instead have everything to do with her outlook on society. What I believe to be one of the most profound lines that has ever been written in literature can be found in the first chapter. "Love's the only thing in this world that is unequivocal." This single line highlights the entire novel in a way that could only be done by a great author, even in Go Set a Watchman, an original unedited manuscript discovered almost 60 years after it was written, Harper Lee can still be respected as an eternally relevant story teller.

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So I should’ve been reading yesterday but I wanted to get out of my head a little bit and instead, binge-watched on Gilmore Girls.

I tried, you guys. I tried to write it off as a silly and meaningless show. I tried to write it off as stupid and dumb and annoying. But here I am, nearly four seasons later, and I’m hooked. 

There’s a reason for that. Gilmore Girls does a truly wonderful job of capturing what it means to be a woman. I blame this on the truly beautiful director/many-times-writer Amy Sherman-Palladino. (Thus far, I’ve discovered that if Sherman-Palladino isn’t writing, her husband is. I wouldn’t be surprised if Amy had input with those episodes as well.)

I noticed this, this portrayal of womanhood, when I watched an episode yesterday entitled The Big One.

In this episode, both Rory and Paris hear back from the colleges that they want to get into. Paris is disappointed - okay, more than disappointed, downright devastated - to hear that Harvard rejected her. And she blames her rejection on one thing.

Keep reading

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So much yes.

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Little Hell

I've known I was gay since I was fifteen. My mom will never accept it. She tried to cast unclean spirits out of me. I moved in with my dad after my best friend at the time told me I needed to get out. My dad doesn't accept it either, but he's fine as long as we don't discuss it. I was in love with my best friend, and she liked me but was unsure at the time, I didn't know this until later. She used to borrow my jacket, and when I would get it back, I loved that it smelled like her. One night we almost kissed. It took two years of us not talking and me being with another girl, but she finally told me she felt the same way. We dated off and on for almost three years after that. Every time we broke up, I'd be miserable. I'd have sex with multiple people to fill the void. While still holding out for her. She still couldn't be open about us. I was selfish and didn't keep her secret. She will never forgive me. But I still forgive her for what she did to me because I blame myself for it. My friends don't understand that or why I still defend her if we talk about it. I fell in love with another closeted girl. I told my parents I was gay when I was with this girl. They still didn't accept me, but I was independent and I felt better and I was happy. But something always brought me back to her. Both of them were fine with a polyamorous relationship until I figured out which girl I wanted to be with because they said they both loved me. I told one that I'd pick her, and I told the other girl that I'd pick her in the end. But when they had sex, I was not okay. I often questioned which one I loved more, but I think now that I've always known even though she wasn't the one I said I wanted to be with after they had sex. Something always brought me back to her, to the inevitable. After they got together, I started casually sleeping with this guy. They were together for two years and they came out together. I became pregnant and my son is now over a year old, so my parents assume that I'm straight. I don't regret anything because everything that happened led me to him, and he makes me so incredibly happy. I was meant to be a mom. I haven't been with anyone since my son's father and he's not present. I know that I want to end up with a woman one day, but because I need my parents to help me with my son so that I can work, I choose to be alone. I wish my mom would understand that yeah, I can choose to be alone, but I can't choose to be a lesbian. I was happy for them. When they came out together, it felt like my world made sense. Like despite the fact that I hurt two people that I loved, they loved each other and they were happy and I had my son and I was happy. A month ago I found out that they broke up and I've been having spells of severe anxiety, depression, and rage. I can't accept the fact that I still think about the one I always found my way back to in the end, and I'm hoping that she'll reach out to me. The inevitable right? But when she said it, I think she meant it was inevitable that she'd walk away. Yet even if she did reach out to me, I'd be the one with the secret to keep this time and that scares me. I'd be the one with the most to lose again, and I couldn't handle losing her again after all of this time. So I remain alone for my son's benefit and because although I love myself more now than I did before, I can't love anyone else but her. I think I'm going crazy. I think I am crazy because I don't deserve her. Truthfully, I never did. There's too much damage there. I need to find someone else. But why can't I just move on? Why after all of this time is she still an everyday thought? If she knew it, she'd be freaked out and she'd think I'm crazy, and she already does. So I need to just move on, but I can't be with another woman because of my parents. Maybe I deserve to be alone after what I did to her. She really really didn't deserve it. It's so important for a person to come out in their own time, in their own way, to who they want to come out to, and this is my karma. My karma is living with how she felt. Worrying that someone would find out, someone she loved, a family member, a friend. She didn't deserve this. I wish I could tell her that. At least that, but I can't say anything to her because she hasn't talked to me in so long and I know I have to give up. She was my best friend at one point. And now we're strangers. This is my little hell.

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Actions vs. Words

We all scroll through social networking sites creeping on our friend's activities. Sometimes even creeping on people we no longer talk to. Today as I was scrolling through my newsfeed and timelines I found a quote that reminded me of someone and helped me realize why some people aren't meant to be in your life after their chapter is over. The quote said "What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say." Wow.. I kept telling myself if I could just find the right thing to say to this person then maybe we could mend things between us and we could at least salvage a friendship. Now it's clear to me that my actions were so against how I really felt that the things I said didn't mean anything. Me hurting projected to my actions instead of letting the love I had project through my actions as well as my words. It also reminded me of two things I learned growing up "Sticks and stones can break your bones, but words they scar forever." And of course something my mom has always said "hurting people hurt people." I used my words to ruin this person's reputation and because of those actions, any other words I said or try to say now are pointless. I can complain all day about how this person hurt me, but clearly when someone is hurt, he/she will hurt you to keep that hurt from happening anymore. It's not because they want to hurt you personally it's because they want to keep themselves from anymore pain. It's understandable. They move on with their lives and there's no reason to keep trying to come back in their lives because nothing, no words could take back your actions. You can't change the past and sometimes you can't even fix the terrible decisions you make that hurt other people because words scar forever. So now instead of asking myself "why will you not talk to me? Did you seriously never care at all about how I felt?" I know that's me being selfish again and I can tell myself "Because of you, idiot. You are the one who messed up. Why would this person want to talk to you after what you did? It's not that this person never cared about how you felt. In fact you know this person and you know it was probably a constant battle to not talk to you or try to mend things because this person did care so much. This person just had to care about you enough to let you go because the relationship even a friendship was so toxic to both of you. And look at where you both are now. You can't deny that when you look at your child that you don't thank this person for letting you go because you would never be where you are now. Happy." And I remember your words that help me put all of this in perspective "Some people are meant to be in your life for a reason, some a season, and some to stay forever."

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Breathing in Life

Breathing in Life During my devotional this morning I had a realization. I've always been a night owl but being a mom might be a better description. Have you ever felt like there was something you were born to do? My body was built to be a mom. When John Duke wakes me up to eat at night, I can wake right up. I don't even need to sleep at night. In fact I went six days in the hospital with two hours of sleep minimum at night or during the day and I felt like I was fully rested. I've always been a hard sleeper when I did sleep and I could sleep for hours. Now I just sleep in between feedings and I still feel like I sleep too much. The first four days of his life I couldn't sleep because I wanted to make sure he was still breathing, thinking this can't be real. It's still hard to believe he's actually here and not in my belly. I find myself wanting to hold him just to prove to myself I'm not dreaming about him really being here, but instead I let him lay in his bassinet in his almost comatose state of sleeping peaceful bliss and watch as he takes each breathe in and out. In those moments I realize how often in my life I've felt the need to touch something to prove it's real. How something had to be at arms length to mean something. When have I ever in my life taken in the beauty of life without feeling the need to physically feel it and hold it? When life becomes something you keep at arms length, that's when you know you're not enjoying life, only the security of owning the things life rewards you. I remember when I have been happiest in my life, I took in the things around me without needing the physical. Besides now when I look at my son what other times did I breath in all that life had to offer? Fall of 2012 when I was working night shifts at the hotel, I always took time to watch the sunrise with a cup of coffee and I still smoked then so a cigarette. Even enjoying my terrible vices, I could have just as well enjoyed the way the auburn sky faded against the lake as the cool air filled my lungs without the need for a cigarette, but then what excuse did I have to go outside every morning? And smoking was a terrible habit I had that I refused to stop because other people told me I needed to quit. I'm stubborn when it comes to things I want to do. A push over when it comes to things I don't want to do. I wanted to quit smoking but I was stubborn and I did enjoy the time outside. After being in the hospital stuck in a room for six days, I definitely missed being outside. I didn't even remember what outside looked like. And now I'm at home and the only view I get of outside is through a window. I miss that Fall. I spent more time outside than I probably ever have in my life. I went to the state park several times and looked out over the mountains and the lake, I went to a small dam and watched the water flow, I slept mostly during the day but when I skipped sleep, I had time to enjoy the little things that I had neglected to notice before. And even in those moments, I was more focused on the person next to me that I wanted to touch than I was about the intangible beauty around me. That's not to say you shouldn't still appreciate the people in your life, but you should never hold them so tightly or even keep them within arms reach to the point where you're so dependent on the physical that you don't take the time to appreciate the little things. I want to protect my son from everything. I don't want him to make my same mistakes or bad decisions and I don't want him to ever hurt. But being a mother isn't just about protection. Even a mama bird who builds a protective nest and physically sits on her eggs eventually lets her babies spread their wings and leave the nest knowing the dangers of flying into glass windows. My point is, I've learned that it's better to keep life at a view than it is to be so close and have your whole world in your own hands. So at night when I wake up and John Duke is still asleep, I count his breaths and picture his dreams. In my eyes, he's enveloped in my love even though he's not physically in my arms, and in those moments I know that I'm really a mother now. I realize how important it is to keep my son protected with my mama bird wings, but also be willing to when the time comes to let him spread his own wings and figure out on his own just how important the little things can be.

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The closet freak

I'm at a time in my life where I know exactly what and who I want. I'm an adult. I pay bills, I work forty hours a week, and I have to live with the decisions I make. One decision I've half made, is something I know I can live with. I'm a lesbian. I've known I liked girls since I was fourteen. But I never understood why I always fell for closeted girls.. Because I'm a closet freak. After graduation, I didn't care who knew I was gay. Anytime I met anyone new who would ask me if I had a boyfriend my response was always "oh, I'm gay!" As if it was no big deal. And honestly, it's not. In life you have two choices, live to please everyone or be happy. Those two rarely go hand in hand, especially concerning my mother. It's taken years for me to get to the point I'm at now, to accept my salvation and my sexuality. My mother believes differently but I love her anyways. The gay subject has always been an issue with us. She will never accept it, condone it, or approve, but I love her anyways and I couldn't imagine my life without her after all she's done for me. She's not perfect but she loves me the only way she knows how, even if that's through constant pray to get rid of my demons. I know God knows my heart. I love people unconditionally and care even when other people would stop. My big heart has lead me into depression so many times but I will never stop loving others. I also will never stop being gay. I pick closeted partners because even behind my boldness and my loving heart, I'm afraid to tell my mom the truth. As much as I want to believe I've came out, I'm still looking through the crack in the door. Telling my dad last month was progress.. Being in a relationship with someone who wants as badly as I do to be open about how we feel is progress. But here I am, hiding from my mom like I'm fourteen again.