It is late in the night, or maybe early in the morning. I am home from a long day of work, graduate school, a dinner date, and spending time at a friend's house. I came home to my loving partner and curled up on the couch in my pajamas. He went to bed, and the minute I was alone, Dundee jumps up and curls into the crook of my knees. He purrs. I have been gone all day, and I think he missed me. Sometimes I wonder if I have a place. I worry that I am not enough, that I have not accomplished enough. I worry that I am not smart or driven enough to be a renowned counselor or author; I worry that I will not make enough money to follow my dreams, or support the kind of family I hope to have. I worry about paying my bills, getting good grades, and maintaining my standard of living through it all. I worry I do not live up to the education I received. I worry I will not amount to much. But, in the past few weeks, I think I've come to realize that I need to take a deep breath. I must lean in to the ambiguity and wonder that is Growth, trust in Support, and look forward with Hope. I may still be becoming whoever I am meant to be, but I am beginning to value who I am now, in this stage of Growth. While initially emotionally tumultuous, I am finally out in many circles (now including any readers here) as a bisexual, polyamorous woman. Embracing my sexual and romantic orientation has made me feel like the most authentic version of myself. It has allowed me to open doors I previously locked shut, doors that only ever held love, beauty, and warmth. It has enabled me to see my vision for my future more clearly. My career path feels more crystallized as I begin to focus on subjects that truly interest me. I smile more. I feel motivated to return to healthy living. I want to rebuild relationships I have neglected. I was so scared no one would love me for who I really am, that I didn't even let myself love me. But once I finally acknowledged within myself that who I am is not wrong, would not change, and is very much deserving of love, it just kind of burst out. I am at last a more complete version of me. It was a long journey. I was finally brave enough to put in the missing puzzle pieces and reveal the picture not only to others, but even to myself. My work to share my truth with others is still difficult and very much still in progress, but at least it is finally fucking happening. I cannot credit this Growth to only me. It is only within the warm arms of Support that I have been able to be free to be who I am. Not even just free--embraced, rewarded, encouraged. Patty has loved me every day, through every up and down, with every new discovery. We are partners who have built a wonderful life together full of love, compassion, and understanding. We have committed to spending our earthly lives together, and for the first time ever that sounds not only not scary, but easy. In fact, being with him is the easiest thing I have ever done, and I think that's what made it finally possible to do the difficult work within myself. I am also finally in a place where I have acknowledged the tremendous pain I have endured at the hands of "friends" over the course of my life. Betrayal has, unfortunately, played an enormous role in many key times in my life, most notably my final semester of high school and my final quarters of my time at Dartmouth. I had grown to believe that I would never really know who might turn on me and, with such cognitive distortions, began to isolate myself from friendship. I told myself this was just how I operated; I did not need constant communication and did not want to have to make tremendous effort to maintain friends. This was very much a lie. I had grown so afraid of being hurt and abandoned by those who I thought loved me, that I neglected my loved ones to protect myself from potential loss and pain. I had grown so broken by the grief that comes with losing a friend. And with the number of people who left me to wonder if their love for me was ever even real in the first place, I shut myself off to new friendship, as well. Until recently. Sometimes the right people come into your life at just the right time, and I believe I am lucky enough to have experienced that. I met a group of people who welcomed me with open arms, invited me to events, and, to my surprise, all would show up to parties I threw or shows I told them about. They didn't even blink when I came out to them. It sounds so simple, yet I don't think they know how much these small and consistent acts of kindness and friendship began to chip at my walls. For a long time, it was terrifying. I found myself growing attached and that fear of abandonment would creep into my heart. And then, one night at a show, one of these beautiful souls put his arm around me and said words that still echo in my body: "You found us. You're home." He will never know how much that meant to me. In that moment, home became more than my house, my cats, Patty, and my parents. Home became that dance floor. Home became all the people I love. Home became the queer world I am exploring. Home became all the people I pushed away, who I know do really love me even if I am afraid. Home became the music, the lights, the sounds, the thump of loud bass in my chest. Home became a community. I am welcoming in the first hours of my birthday in quiet darkness with only my sleeping cat. There was a time, not even that long ago, when such a sleepless night would make me feel like I had no one. I just paused my writing, looked to the ceiling and began to cry happy tears. Even in my solitude, I finally, finally know that I am not alone.