It Takes Time

In some ways, being out has been easy for me; once I accepted my truth, it became easy to live it. I started to shine and slowly but surely I began to find my identity, I used to feel uncertain where I fit, not quite deserving of a contributing seat at the gay table and yet clearly not meant to fit in the hetero world either.

But all of that has changed, I feel a comfortable camaraderie being lumped into the lesbian stereotypes and happily giggle along with all the gay funnies. Its taken me twenty long years to find myself, but when I finally burst out of that closet, literally everything became clearer.

I live my life according to my own agenda, I pursue love and light and happiness and I will not compromise that which is important to me for anyone ever again. Yet its important to keep things in perspective, to remember my life, my choices and my person have impacts on others.

My family, my parents in particular, are struggling. In their hearts, I know they want me to be happy, and they understand that love is love but having a gay daughter isn’t exactly the same as generally supporting the gay agenda. I know that to them, its a change of massive proportions and that in time, everything will work itself out.

Meeting  my girlfriend’s family last week made my heart swell and gave me a glimpse of family inclusivity. Her family has had virtually her entire adult life to come to terms with her sexuality and its very evident that my girlfriends family loves and accepts her just as  she is; it was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever experienced.

I can only hope that in time, my family will adjust to my new reality and be able to not just accept, but welcome my gay self and my love with open arms.

 

Breathless

I remember the first time I kissed a boy; I was 13, it was a warm summer night and I absolutely hated it. He pressed his lips pressed so hard against mine, his tongue invading my mouth and what I remember most clearly, is an overwhelming inability to breathe.

And in the twenty years that followed, I continued to hate kissing boys and generally avoided it. I convinced myself that my allergies and stuffy nose were the culprit of my distaste and my ex never questioned it. He also accepted that I wasn’t very affectionate and I hated snuggles, cuddles and touching in general.

I remember the first time I kissed a girl; I was 19, she was a friend and her kisses felt so right. Soft lips, sensual caresses and an instinctual familiarity and comfort that left me breathless. And somehow over the years that would follow, I would neglect to realize the difference between feeling unable to breathe and feeling breathless and more importantly, just who made me feel each.

This is just one of the signs of my sexuality that I ignored; I wasted years making excuses and choosing not to listen to my intuition and my instincts. I know now that I had it wrong all along, I wasn’t unaffectionate and I didn’t hate kissing, I hated kissing boys.

But where my girlfriend is concerned, I love all the kisses and always seem to need just one more. My girlfriend fills me with love and light and happiness, her kisses are like candy for my soul, filling me with a sweetness that I can never quite seem to get enough of, her touch awakens my nerve endings, sending tiny ripples of energy undulating across my skin.

In her arms, I feel like I’m finally home.

Sometimes

Sometimes I can’t believe that she has chosen me, that each day, she chooses me, just as I choose her. But in truth, loving her is one of the realest, most authentic things I’ve ever done and I’m not sure I could ever stop, even if I wanted to.

Sometimes, I can’t believe how much I want her, how much I crave her presence, her touch, her smile, her laugh. I am magnetized by her energy, we share a current that vibrates with more intensity than I ever could have imagined possible.

Sometimes, I can feel our souls connecting; recharging, revitalizing and communicating on an ethereal level that words could never describe. I believe that everything before was meant to be bring me face to face with the woman who would touch my soul in an instant.

Sometimes, I can’t believe that this life, filled with love and light and happiness, is mine; that all of this is real. That I have co-created a life that fulfills me and found my own joy by becoming the centre of my own universe.

Sometimes, I just sit back and revel in all the love I have for myself, for my life and for my lovely lady, because all that love is absolutely worth savoring.

Say Yes

It’s been a while since I’ve felt inspired; I’ve been caught up in the whirlwind of life, running here, running there, always running somewhere. Despite the chaos, I’m still doing things differently, I’m still doing things for ME. First and foremost, I am taking care of myself. One of the things I’ve been working on, is connecting, in minimal ways, with people that I feel an affinity for.

There are only a few people in my life that I’ve known since high school and still consider a friend; these people are sacred to my heart because they’ve always accepted me just as I am, never with judgement and only with love. I was speaking with one such friend yesterday and when I made a lighthearted comment about being a lesbian, her response was perfect.

Doesn’t it feel great to shout that out?
Because you ARE shouting it out now aren’t you?
And all I could say was YES.

YES, THIS girl is GAY!
YES, it is empowering to finally stop hiding (from myself).
YES, my skin finally feels like it fits.
YES, I am happy, so very happy.

I finally started saying YES to myself and in turn the universe started saying yes to me too. My life is ripe with opportunity, love, light and happiness; all those years I tried to create the ‘perfect life’, but all I had to do was say yes to me and everything began falling into place.

I will be me

When my girlfriend and I started dating it was very organic and natural; there was an undeniable attraction and chemistry that could only be kept at bay for so long. But that didn’t stop me from worrying that I (no WE) would be to much for her; because its not just me, it will never, ever just be me.

I come with two tiny humans that walk the earth, exploring their surroundings in pursuit of becoming amazing little men. These boys are literally made from my heart and soul, grown in my belly and birthed from my being. They are my everything.

I have learned, I am more than my ‘mom hat’ but I wear that crown proudly because I am the lucky one to have the opportunity to love and protect those two boys. I am a mother and just as I will not let that define me, nor will I lose that piece of me.

And for a time, I worried that my (younger) girlfriend, with no responsibilities of similar magnitude would be overwhelmed and walk away. But she has embraced, step by step, the circus that accompanies me and together (along with my boys) we are figuring out what our new reality looks like.

It turns out however, that it wasn’t my girlfriend I needed to worry about. I am a strong woman, I am independent and quite frankly, I get shit done. But in the midst of a yet another enormous life shift, the woman I considered my best friend has all but disappeared.

After a month of awkwardness, this evening I found myself sitting on a log, staring at a frozen pond, tears running down my cheeks as I tried to understand. I wanted it to be something that I could fix, but I didn’t own any of the possible scenarios before me; they weren’t fixable by me.

At the end of the day, I’m still crying,; I’m no longer confused, I’m hurt, I’m sad and I’m disappointed because all this time I thought that we were in IT together. But I see now she’s not sure she wants that anymore because its hard and its real. She wants to drink wine, bullshit and redefine our friendship so that it can fit in the stereotypical box of what friends are ‘supposed’ to look like.

And the thing is, although I want to be able to do that, I don’t know that I can.

I don’t fit in boxes and I am not like the other girls.

I have spent the last year and a half learning to accept and embrace myself, learning to live my truth and honour the song of my heart. And if all of that is too much, if I am too much, I apologize, but I will not cram myself back into that metaphorical box for anyone.

Tears and broken heart or not, I will stand proud and I will be me.
But I do hope she finds her way back.

Chasing Lust

In my life, I have chased lust and I’ve chased it hard; but no matter what boundary I pushed I was always left wanting more. Despite my efforts and willingness to try anything, I was never fully satiated. My body, my biology, understood how to feel good, how to find a physical release if only I could quiet my mind. And so I learned, to take solace in an orgasm; a moment of pleasure amongst a dreary existence.

What I understand now is that chasing lust, a purely physical experience, could never really fulfill me because good as it feels, love changes everything. I am filled with love and light and happiness now; I know, with certainty, that I emanate a confidence and a joy that comes from loving myself and is only strengthened by the love I share with my girlfriend.

I have now experienced the beautiful meeting of love and lust and I know nothing will ever be the same. All those years, I hoped that lust could fill the emptiness that resided in my heart, but I was looking in the wrong place. I needed love, not lust, and there was none in my life.

Every day, I am amazed by the fullness in my heart, the smiles in my soul and my ability to love and be loved by her. Together we chase our collective lust, guided only by our hearts and it is the most soul-shattering, satisfying  thing I’ve ever experienced.

It is a mistake, of colossal magnitude, to think that lust alone is enough.

Proud to be Me

Every single day, my life changes and I happily change along with it. This week, something huge happened and it’s made me realize, once again, that I am not meant for normalcy, I am not meant to be defined by society and I most certainly am not like all the other girls.

In my town, single moms have a tendency to lose their homes, they downsize and they struggle to survive in their new reality. I struggle too, but it’s different. I struggle to ensure that my children are provided for both in my home and their fathers; I am the sole provider for my family, including my ex-husband.

This week, in addition to ensuring everyone’s needs were met, I moved into a house that I successfully mortgaged and purchased on my own. Owning a house has always been a dream of mine, and since I left my ex and gave him the house we had purchased together its been something I’ve been striving to accomplish. And now, the stars have aligned and I am once again a home owner.

Although I’d been working towards this monumental change in my life for some time, the reality of the situation still managed to catch me by surprise. I am a strong, independent woman who takes care of herself and her family and I alone have purchased a house that will become a home.

I made that happen; I remember my counselor explaining to me that by my very existence, I was an oppressed person. He explained that as a middle-class woman, of mixed ethnicity and questioning sexuality (I hadn’t accepted my gay at that point) no one had handed me any golden opportunities. He told me I had worked hard to achieve everything I  had and that I should be proud of all that I had accomplished.

But in that moment I felt anything but proud, his words felt like a forced acknowledgment of my circumstance. Yet since that conversation, I’ve found myself reflecting on his words on multiple occasions; especially now, I can recall the conversation so clearly. In the midst of yet another huge accomplishment, I finally see what he was trying to tell me.

I created the opportunity and the change that I wanted to see in my life and that makes me so incredibly proud to be me.