I've felt like a different person these past few days. So free of the cloying anxiety that usually haunts my waking/sober hours. I had a chance to truly relax into being ME. I let go of the defense that has been building day by day. Being able to live a normal, daily life without constantly being pressured to conform is incredibly serene. For just a short time, the only person's expectations I had to live up to was my own. And it allowed me to set reasonable expectations for myself, to feel proud of my accomplishments (however small), to not be beset by guilt at every turn.
It was a shocking revelation that I could feel so differently. I've become numb to all that is demanded of me, the blood that is drawn from me over and over. Numb, but reacting imperceptibly. Tiny wounds to my soul, inflicted without notice and without cause.
I realize now that in the past, I took for granted the joys and simple pleasures of being truly appreciated, of being looked at as someone worthy with a heart that loved and could be loved. Its such an integral expectation for day-to-day life, that it takes a long time to realize when a significant chunk of your existence is severely lacking in that area.
Today the defenses have been slowly building back up, as hard as I tried to ignore it happening. Truthfully, I need them. I can't get by without them. But I am mourning the lightness, the hope, that is being replaced by a stiff backbone and a rock solid heart. I have to go back to the way it has to be. The thought makes me want to weep, want to die, want to give up. I won't. I won't be defeated. I will return stronger than ever for knowing how soft and sweet life can be. This isn't my forever. This isn't my true calling. One day, one day I will find it and I will be the only one who is not astounded at what I have accomplished.
One day I will live as free and wild and bold and passionately as I want. Never again to be diminished, to be forced to live as a muted version of the brightness that I am. And I will do all I can to help others to be their own beautiful brightness.
I can't hide myself. Please don't ask me to. I want to be loved for who I am not some hollow version of myself.
Here's the truth I am feeling tonight: I think if I lose weight people - women - would like me more. As a friend, as whatever. (Men too, but I really only care about Jesse.) Tomorrow I am going hardcore on dieting. Maybe its for a terrible reason, but I am craving female friendship too much at this point to give a fuck.
All you female identifying individuals: why do we judge each other based on superficial and ultimately meaningless criteria? For millennia we have been captive by men, suppressed by men, controlled by men, used by men. We pride ourselves on being free of all that, of having rights and owning our own bodies. But do we? If we do not love ourselves - our bodies, our minds, our hearts, our sexuality, our spirit, our energy - are we free of the patriarchy that has held us down? When we do not love ourselves, we cannot truly and selflessly and purely love our fellow women. And when that happens, we are defeated as much as we were when we were sold as slaves or used as sex objects or had no voice of our own. Do you look in the mirror and see flaws, mistakes, ugliness, ignorance, powerlessness? Then you are seeing that in every woman you look at. Because you are hearing the message that women are less, that women rely on men to hold to whatever impossible standard you were subliminally taught as a sweet young child. And you are applying that to yourself and every other woman you will ever meet. Why? Why do you do it? Why hurt each other like that? I have been the recipient of the lies that women tell each other, I have told the lies myself. Can't we stop? Can't we love each other and celebrate each other for everything that makes each woman herself? You are beautiful and amazing and talented and intelligent and fascinating. Those things might not be me at all but GOD I love that they are you. You are in to sports or death metal or baking or working out or painting or musicals or religion or shopping or hiking or beer or country music or cats or interpretative dancing or WHATEVER! And I seriously do not get it. But I fucking love you for it. I LOVE IT. It is so awesome that you feel that way about that thing. Every time you tell me about it I need to shut the fuck up and listen and champion how much you enjoy it! We think that we can stop pushing for women's rights and its not true; every moment they are in danger. But you don't have to know about how much women make compared to men or the latest attack on the rights of our bodies. All you have to know that women will stand together, we will share our pain and our hopes and our burdens and our dreams and our love with each other. But it is impossible unless we first LOVE OURSELVES. Love everything about yourself. Love yourself for recognizing your flaws (because every human has them) and love yourself for wanting to change them! Love the shit you are good at and have fun with and love the people that love you. And then when you see another woman... you will not be able to help but love her...
One other thing: Can we please be honest with each other? I know it is fucking awkward as hell. But just be upfront, okay? You owe nothing to no one - but you owe honesty to yourself, and that means being honest with others. Including, especially, your fellow women. We all feel pain. We all hurt. Be honest with those around you so they can understand and not fall into a vague area where its all too easy to blame your sensitive self, to doubt what you see in the mirror. You owe women the truth. You owe them clarity. Because if nothing else, since the dawn of time women have been through hell and back, and we are the only ones who get that. Sexism isn't over. So we have to stick together, to not doubt each other, and to love ourselves and each other. Be honest. To yourself, to your lover, to your friends, to your family.
I have a vagina. If you do too, then you know things about me that no man could ever understand.
Last week I stopped by Sailor Jim's and made an impulsive appointment. Today, it happened. It hurt. Either the back is more painful than the forearm, or if I just felt less pain when I could actually watch it happen. I like watching the process; its pretty fucking cool. Its definitely not an unbearable pain; just uncomfortable.
So what is it? I'm starting to plan how I will answer that question. What does it mean? What I say will beyond a doubt depend on the questioner. To the casual, the conservative, the unknown variable: I will give a reply about "equality" and, if pressed, "pride flags." Its the truth. What I may not tell them is that this specifically it is a symbol of my own bisexuality. Yes, I like men. Well, mostly I like Jesse. But I also like women. Of course, you know that already.
Although. The equality part of this tattoo is actually incredibly important to me. I'm sure in my brainwashed-crazy religious days there must've been a time that I "judged" or "looked down" on gay people. But I don't remember it. I do remember one day writing my "testimony" in a Book of Mormon and talking to my then-best friend Cassie about giving it to a gay friend of ours. But I didn't judge him. I didn't hate him. Of course, I also had a tiny crush on him. Everyone did. Luckily, I grew up
As an adult, I've become increasingly aware of inequality in this world. And also more aware of how sheltered and naive I am. I've never faced true discrimination. But I do my best not to be blind to it. Homophobia. Sexism. Worst of all, racism. Its real and it exists and every single one of us has an obligation to do what we can to stop it, to derail it. But what can I do? Who am I to say anything, what do I truly understand? All I know is that there are things in this country going on that are not right. And every moment I live in silence is a moment I can't be proud of.
Fucking Macklemore - Macklemore! - summed it up pretty well for me.
"The best thing white people can do is talk to each other.
And having those very difficult, very painful conversations with your parents, with your family members.
I think one of the critical questions for white people in this society is what are you willing to risk,
What are you willing to sacrifice to create a more just society?
Your silence is a luxury, hip-hop is not a luxury"
I don't know what to do. I don't know how to stop the disgusting sentiments hidden so deeply within our culture. All I know is we can't allow the country's first black president to be followed by racism and hatred. We need a president who bases politics on love, on fighting for equality even when it is the "wrong" thing to do (as in, possibly illegal but totally the morally right call). I'm going to be doing some volunteering for Bernie Sanders this week. I'm going canvassing, maybe do some phone banking. I don't know if he'll win. Maybe not Utah, probably not the U.S. But the more we support Bernie, the more we let Hillary know that this is what we want. We don't give a fuck about Wall Street, we care about income inequality, about giving young middle-class American's the education they need to even have a shot at the American dream, about seeing people as human and not black/white/male/female. Maybe Hillary'll turn our back on us. But nothing - NOTHING - is worse than a out-and-out racist and fucking idiot like Trump. You know, back when I was a die-hard Obama supporter fighting tooth and nail against Romney - someone I saw as the epitome as evil since it combined my two lease favorite things (conservatism and Mormonism): I still wasn't ever the type to say, "if so-and-so wins, I'm moving to wherever!" But Trump? God I will die. I would rather die than live under a fascist like him. I will apply as a refugee to any goddamn country that will take me (Canada, you are freezing but thank you for being willing to take me in anyway).
I want this world to be better than the one I came into. I want my children (if I have any) to see less hate, more love, more acceptance, than I've grown up with.
On acceptance: there are at least three people in this world that I can tell anything to about my life and I know they won't judge me, they will see it as another detail that makes me the person they love. Possibly not something they agree with or are interested in, but no matter what I tell them, they love that is a part of me simply because it is part of who I am.
The people I know I can count on? Jesse. Anna. Chelsey.
There's probably more - people who fit this description but I'm too much of a fucking coward to truly test out.
But ultimately: every single person craves, more than anything else, this type of acceptance.
If you are reading this - and I hope you are - I will be that person for you. I will accept you. I will listen without judgement, criticism. Most of all, I will celebrate everything you tell me as proof that you are the most beautiful wonderful you that you can be.
