I must be inbetween worlds. I break down and cry easily. A small little everyday phenomenon. Lessons in love are short and occur frequently, like short rain showers from passing clouds. A face pops up in my mind. It’s my crush. She looks so inviting. She smiles as if to say, ”I’m the one you’ve been waiting for”. I can never talk to her. She’s straight. I’ve installed [dating app X] on my phone. On the subway home, I open it up, it feels surreal. There are faces. I connect the thing to my Facebook account. It’s intimidating, looking at so many faces. I press ”no” on all of them. I don’t ever want anybody to see me doing this. I would never press ”yes” on anybody. I don’t even understand how the app works because there’s no manual. I just erase the faces. I look at the girls wondering, Do all of these want to be with girls? Probably not. I could never talk to anybody like this. Still it’s as if their eyes can see me. I don’t want to be seen. There is an LGBT community center in my city. They organize events. The next date is in March. I want to go, or maybe not. I’m not going. I can’t walk into that place. I will be seen. By people’s eyes. I think I’ll die of shame. I wore a shirt the other day that made me feel like David Bowie. I have a new haircut. It makes me feel like Kurt Cobain. That’s pretty cool and silly. Makes me happy like an 8 year old. It makes me want to die of shame. There’s an ad up in the subway, I stare at it every day because it says ”Love” beneath a drawing of two women in a romantic embrace. It makes me think it’s the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen! I read a pamphlet online about safe sex between same-sex partners (trying to educate myself or something…….…) It makes me smile the new smile that comes to me these days, it feels like the sun around the edges of my face, the smile stretches wide, it’s a raw smile, these muscles have never been released before. Trying to find LGBT activities in my city online. It’s all too much, I break down, I cry. Overwhelming. I can’t ever go, this is crazy. There is a wall between me and these things. An invisible wall… During the Christmas holidays, I watched my cousin care for his newborn little baby together with his girlfriend, everybody gathering around the baby, these new parents in their new roles, I stared a hard stare, because I realized I’d missed the train, I’d completely missed the opportunity to ever picture myself as a parent, or as one half of an engaged or married couple. All of that went over my head all my life. Because picturing myself with a woman as my spouse instead of a man feels entirely different. Reality is cold and hard and strange. I can never talk to anybody – nothing that makes sense ever comes out of my mouth. I’m not straight anymore and I’m not queer either. What the hell am I? I’m a dreamer. I dream of a beautiful woman who would share my values and my interests, be unafraid and fascinating, and oh, also nice to share a bed with. These dreams suit a 14 year old much better than a 33 year old. I feel so ”other”, I feel so awake and non-existing at the same time. Coming out to myself (am I out to myself?) has made me understand what kind of a romantic relationship I’d like to have, the quality of it, it’s opened up my heart so far, but it doesn’t make me feel at home as a queer person or whatever. Meeting just any woman isn’t the point. I need to grow in some way and I need to meet someone who views life the way I do. I think so… I want to be awake, I want to be engaged when in a relationship with someone. But I’m a strange person. Both introverted and extroverted (mostly introverted, very introverted, hmm), both spontaneous and full of fear (but often laughing about it), I’m selfish when I think I’m not, I earn very little money and am incredibly fascinated by plant foods, sensations in the body and sounds… I don’t like to talk a lot except for when I’m alone, then I talk to myself (and laugh)… I want to give the best I can to other people but often feel I fail. Who am I now? I often wonder. Everything is upside down. I also don’t know who I am without my ex-boyfriend. I was with him to cure loneliness. Where do I fit into all of this? Into this world? Here and there during the working week tears well up and I cry for 30 seconds. I feel good in those moments. I’m afraid of things. Of everything that a romantic relationship has the possibility to become. Of meeting real people in a real way. (Real? What is real?) I used to interact with people, but as a ghost, possibly. I was there, but more for their sake than mine. Now I see the details in people’s body language, and they seem to me much more anxious than they used to. Perhaps I’m projecting? Perhaps I’m the one who’s anxious? But parts of my shield have fallen away. I think I used to absorb what other people were feeling, take it on and try to make them feel better, instead of listening to what I was feeling. It was an effective strategy to keep the lid on things inside myself that I had no intention of facing. What if I could be a real adult? Take responsibility for what I do, for what I want, acknowledge what I’m thinking and feeling and communicate it to others? See and set boundaries? Can I really take this on? It’s as if I’ve been offered the leading role in a play and somehow said ”yes” before having had a chance to think. I just don’t know how to research this role. To be continued…
This is so honest and so much detail I can relate to - thank you, this is beautiful. The part about not having a child and family - you are only 33, if you picture yourself with a woman, you can have a family in the future. Hiding your identity is very hard, determining who you are and where you are heading is so difficult and overwhelming. I don't know how this all settles in since I am probably getting into similar waters. Hang in there, would like to read your sequel.
It sounds to me like you are researching the hell out of it in real and meaningful ways every day. Your writing is beautiful. I loved reading it. I can see the contrast in your writing between 1) new feelings of being real and alive, and 2) the disorienting vacuum-like swirl of what-the-hell-will-I-do-with-this-hole-that-I-used-to-fill-with-others-to-avoid-me (surely I CANNOT fill it with me/queer, I will die of shame). I feel the contrast you describe in my own life. I think at times I might be letting that uncomfortable vacuum be filled with motherhood (it's so...puffy...), but the other stuff (LOVING feeling ME emerge, and also being absolutely terrified and disoriented by it) still manages to shine through. I've taken to trusting that the massive discomfort I feel means I'm doing some meaningful work. I think you are, too.
Thank you both for reading and replying! Yes, I agree... discomfort carries a message! The only way is forward (&&&)
