Why do we need labels anyways?

I’ve been thinking about labels a lot lately. How adamant I was, just a year ago, that I didn’t need a label and yet, how transformative it was for me to finally accept I was a lesbian.

My world seemed to explode, in the best possible way, when I embraced my gay; life seemed easier and more manageable when I stopped distrusting the fundamental core of my being.

And yet, in many ways, life was (and is) harder.

It’s harder because there’s no longer an inherent acceptance of my partner, no assumed ally around every corner. There are moments, when I have to take pause because I can feel the weight of the stares and the disgust mingled with curiosity that hangs heavy in the air.

But moments like those pale in comparison to the world I find myself in. An existence that honors my truth and respects my authenticity. Not only do I smile more than ever before, I smile in ways I never knew possible.

I am happy.

And for me, the catalyst for that change, was embracing my sexuality, stepping out from the crutch of a bisexual label and owning my gay.

And I love it. I love my homo ass self.

And my super gay girlfriend too.

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October

This October, is going to be different she said, better than your last two.

And she’s right; it would take a fairly major life catastrophe to be worse at this point. Last October I struggled; I cried a lot of tears, felt a lot of feelings and grew a lot. I remember sitting in a hotel room (which I coincidentally have been this week as well), awash with emotion trying to understand why.

And then I knew, it had been 365 days since I changed my life.

In October 2015, I walked away from a marriage that brought me no joy and from a life that was slowly stealing my soul. I recognized and admitted that I was worthy of the life that I desired and that life was not meant to be lived in the shadows.

In October 2016, I finally began to let it all go and in doing so, began to find myself. Only a few months later, I embraced my sexuality and my life exploded with rainbows, joy and happiness.

And this year, in October 2017, I have laughed, I have smiled and I have celebrated family, love and the girl that makes my heart sing. This October I have embraced the life that I have chosen and made space only for that which deserves the honour of existing within the recesses of my heart and soul.

the little things

Before I met her, I don’t think I truly understood what people meant what they said ‘it’s the little things’, but now, I get it.

My girl shows me her love in all the ways, big and small.

The patience she shows me, every damn day, while we figure out this journey called life.

The way she respects and honours my boys and the way we’re redefining boundaries together.

The way she’s always been able to read and understand me, even when I’m uncertain what I want or need.

The way she shows up at my door with ice cream at the end of a long day, even when I’ve told her I’m fine.

I could go on, but my intention isn’t to ramble; this is the fifth night I’ve been away from her and I miss her terribly.

The way she nuzzles into my chest and everything just fits.

The way the scent of her floods my senses and immediately brings a smile to my face.

The way our bodies intertwine so naturally, as if they’re meant to be one.

I feel like the luckiest girl to have found a love that honours me not only with her words, but with her actions.

Words are cheap, but making the effort every single day, is the stuff dreams are made of. Life isn’t all fairytales and romance, sometimes it’s quite simply, all about the little things.

Courageous

I was called courageous this week; for simply being me. For being honest and true to who I am and living the life that only I can lead. It was a compliment of great magnitude, an honour, to be recognized for living my authentic life.

I have worked hard to get here, to finally stop carrying the burden of expectation and instead channel the energy that runs through me, that’s always been in me, but I was afraid to unleash.

Today, I am many things to many people but there is one, single defining constant that I can depend on, me. I have found a strength within me, that has come with loving and accepting myself in a whole new way.

And I’m proud of who I am.

I am a lesbian mom to two little boys (who I adore) and am ridiculously in love with a woman that makes me smile like an idiot and fills me with a warmth like I’ve never known. I feel lucky to have created this life, but I’ve never considered  myself courageous.

But perhaps, when I was a closeted, unhappy and inauthentic woman, encountering someone living an honest, gay and happy life, would have been inspiring. Perhaps that interaction would have been a catalyst for the change that I was searching for. Maybe, I would have asked myself the questions I was so afraid to answer; I never had that epiphany, but I did eventually find my way.

Today, I’m living a life that fulfills my soul without pause for expectation or judgement  but for the first time, I’m recognizing the possibility that a glimpse of my life may inspire authenticity in someone else’s journey.

And perhaps to them, I am courageous.

I Don’t Know What They Wore

Today was the first day of school for my boys, they woke up at home with me and I whisked them off to their Dad’s at 6:30 am. I gave them kisses and hugs and told them I loved them. I told them I hoped they would have an amazing first day at school and I assured my littlest that if he played nicely, like he had all summer, the other kids would want to play with him too.

When I talked to them after work, they both sounded happy, excited to have seen their friends and gone to school. For two little boys who have been claiming they hate school all summer, that’s a win. My heart smiled when I could hear the joy in their voices, I want them to love learning, to thirst for knowledge and have the drive to accomplish their dreams.

But, today was the first day of school and I didn’t get to walk them to their classes, I didn’t get to hug them at their classroom door or pick them up and celebrate a successful, albeit short, first day.

In fact, I don’t even know what they wore. My Facebook account is a sea of smiling faces with adorable first day of school signs. I know what everybody else’s children wore to school today, but I don’t have a clue what my boys wore. And its making me cry.

As a working mom, I know that there will always be school events I can’t attend and that’s the only reality my boys know, I’ve always worked.

But as a divorced Mom, I never realized how much the little, seemingly insignificant, things could hurt. I knew that getting divorced and co-parenting would be a challenge, but I don’t think I could have ever been fully prepared for the emotions that bubble up in a moment, painting my face with tears.

I had trouble focusing all day at work and I couldn’t pinpoint why. When I sat down to write this evening, it wasn’t about parenting, but my stream of consciousness brought me here; pondering what it means to my soul, to co-parent my children.

Letting Go

This is the third time I’ve moved in four years. For the first time, as I’m unpacking the boxes of stuff, I’m watching the piles for donation and garbage grow much faster than the keep pile. I always want to keep things, especially if they have memories and for me that includes clothes.

I remember the way she smiled, shy and eager, when she saw me in my white flowered dress; unexpectedly her shirt matched perfectly. I will always, without question, think of that moment when I see that dress or that shirt. Clothes have memories.

And so I have clothes, a lot of clothes, with a lot of memories. When I was packing, I purged a lot from ‘before’ that I just hadn’t worn and now I have another big pile ready for donation. It turns out there are very few things that I want to keep when the price is a constant reminder of the life I almost settled for.

My girlfriend told me, it was about letting go, and I think she’s right. My life is so full, there’s no space for old memories that bring me no joy.

But its not just the memories, its the expectations, including the ones I used to put on myself. I forgot, that feeling, of needing to be more, if I wanted to be lovable. That belief that with a little more effort on my side everything could be better for everyone. But better was never quite attainable.

Now, my life is better, in all the ways.

My boys will always have my heart, but there was a time when I struggled to enjoy them. The energy to mom, when you are broken on the inside can sometimes be difficult to attain. Now, I laugh, smile and play with my boys far more than I get frustrated.

My family watched me get lost, but they couldn’t change a thing. I wanted that life to work and just kept trying a little harder to be more. Now, I am found and there are all the smiles; my parents, my boys, my girl. My Family.

My heart was once so confused, so unaware and lost. Now, not only does my heart sing, sometimes its a duet.

My life IS better. So I’m letting go of before.