Me and Mr. Jones

Today was a good day. We are in bed laughing. Nicki is snoring between my legs. I said I was going to write. Usually this is difficult so I’m just going to stick to simple declarative sentences. As much truth as I can muster.

Before bed we watched The Whale. It engaged me with the message of writing powerful truths. Or the power of arriving at some actual truth.

This morning we took Nicki to daycare so she can play with the other dogs. Then we returned home and hung out, watching drag and random movies. Marcel the shell was a lifetime of truths so sweetly delivered. At some point we paused to go visit Market Days. My favorite parts were the cloudy skies and mostly empty streets and G’s shorts. Then we rode bikes home. It was perfect.

I thought a lot about time and anniversaries and my life so far. I delight in so many of my memories. But mostly I sit in awe of my very cozy life today. I love our home, our way with Nicki, and our relationship. This love has taken me and given a world of delight.

There was a moment this afternoon when both G and Nicki were asleep on the couch next to me snoring in perfect nap-time harmony. The sun caused my stained glass yellow to glow. It was a moment worth writing down and remembering. I hope to do more of that.

Tomorrow I return to regular work responsibilities and some condensed stress around preparing for SEED seminars this week. The only real negative is my anxiety that makes it all seem uncompromisingly difficult. And my fear that the anxiety will have me vomiting come morning. All I can do is breath, and remember that’s it’s literally all in my head.

I’m grateful to be living this part of my story with full presence of mind and awareness of change. I look forward to tomorrow.

Intermingled limbs rest on a Sunday morning. Our dog stretches and readjusts.

There is no space between us. Bodies wrapped together in white sheets, interred as one.

How many of our days begin this way? How many hours spent intertwined with sleep or sex or some mix of both?

I asked about your name when we were introduced on the internet. What vast worlds of knowledge are separated by hard and soft sounds?

Today we fight against separation. Our inter-species family lives on top of one another.

What a perfect thing to celebrate, our single story of interdependence. Two cuts parallel in the same flesh.

Whenever we are engaged in conversation, why is it you don’t express any curiosity about me or my life? This past weekend during your visit to the city I intentionally mentioned details about my current situation that I would have loved to share more about with you: my upcoming two year wedding anniversary with G, my journey to live outside the gender binary and the complications that come with that at school, all the changes and successes at my new job, my life in recovery, and/or all the art that is inspiring me. It was my experience that you never once commented or followed up about any of these things. And I am honestly very curious — did you learn anything about me? Have you ever wanted to?

A few years ago I remember you told me that I did not seem to be the type of person that would get tattoos. I don’t remember if there was any further discussion but it crossed my mind recently when you did ask me a specific question about the tattoo I have on my upper arm. I was so excited to tell you about how G designed it and we each got a version tattooed just two years prior. I tried to even reference older tattoos in that same moment — and you followed up again with silence. Where does that silence come from? Is it an actual lack of curiosity about me personally or is it a discomfort with all the queerness that enhances me and my existence?

Do you remember when you were worried my younger brother might be gay? It was my experience that even in that conversation you weren’t actually asking me anything about my own life. How would you have reacted if he had actually come out as queer? Would that have triggered more understanding and engagement on your part or would your silence have grown quieter still?

What happens to all of the feelings of yours that you don’t express? Are you happy?

And finally: do you recall all the rules you think I broke growing up? My hair was styled wrong so I couldn’t go with you to church, my music collection was inappropriate so I couldn’t listen to it, my attraction to men was uncomfortable so you pretended it didn’t exist? Do all of those rules still keep you from actually loving me?

As it turns out my life has improved considerably.

In the months since we’ve seen one another none of my circumstances have changed, yet everything feels increasingly cozier. I attribute this to a very rigorous habit of calm self-reflection. I’ve been speaking my gratitude out loud and pausing often to breath. And honestly, the universe is still surprising me with easy opportunities to grow.

For example, this past June I signed up to attend a week-long equity and diversity seminar at my school. These seminars are mandated at my school: all employees are expected to go through a version of the seminar in their first three years of employment. I was very excited for the experience — I’d anticipated going through it since I was first hired. Being open and vulnerable, discussing systems of oppression, and connecting human to human with stories were the avenues I hoped to use to finally connect with my new school. Because so far, as I’m sure you’ll remember, I hadn’t made any attempt to connect with any person at work and felt no real need.

But the seminar was horrible. Poorly run by way too many under-prepared facilitators. The other employees in attendance were mostly at this particular seminar because it was their last option before facing some consequence for non-attendance. It was held in a basement room with over-zealous air-conditioning. At one point I actually walked out during an un-productive and triggering conversation about gender binaries and violence. It was four days of biting my tongue and holding my breath.

This would have been frustrating enough, but simultaneously my husband had left that same week to visit family in Mexico. I haven’t, historically, thrived during moments of solitude. And now I was stuck at home alone with all sorts of feelings and nothing to do but sit with them. So I processed loudly while pacing throughout our apartment, talking to mirrors and fussing over the dog. For days. Talking and pacing. Walking the dog. Chewing nicotine gum. Feeling.

You know what I didn’t do? Drink alcohol. The one tried and true way my former self knew to feel better or rather not feel anything at all. I remained conscious and connected.

What finally emerged was simple — I was tired of living in support of other people’s limited views of things. And I was actually feeling myself stifled and frustrated. I’d spent a few years upgrading my life circumstances and yet I wasn’t experiencing any respite from all the trauma and pain. It’s like I had a large pair of wings and I’ve just kept them strapped down and covered up and they were now aching to be released from their constraints. So I let them out and tried to use them. It was time for me to actively live and demand to be seen.

I reached out to school leadership to discuss the poorly run seminar and shared both my negative experience and my ideas to make it better for others. At this same meeting I was offered a position as facilitator and assigned to run my own seminar for new faculty and staff at the end of the summer. Buoyed by this success I also took the opportunity to update my pronouns and preferred title to finally reflect my nonbinary identity both at work and on social media. And suddenly I found myself floating a bit above all the shit from before.

It’s a good thing too because a few days later some of the shit from before decided to reach out. X texted to say that he was proud of my posts about my nonbinary identity. At first I ignored it, then decided to reply with a generic thanks, and finally I crashed back down to my former turmoil because every time X shows up all of the trauma comes with him. But something was different this time. My wings now course-corrected and I was soon on the rise again.

I replied with a self-assurance that had not formerly existed. I acknowledged his support and that support is positive. I then shared that I had never felt supported during our relationship and I hope that he is able now to be present and supportive for his new person. And I pressed send.

With that one text I truly released all the pain and hurt I’d been carrying with me for years. Because I said things directly and plainly that I felt. I expressed a truth about myself in a vulnerable moment and I wasn’t trying to accomplish anything except for the expression. X soon replied and it was obvious that he hadn’t really received my intended message but that also was helpful because I just deleted it and moved on.

And I have moved on. I spent the month of August planning and offering my own version of the diversity seminar at work. One of the school leaders facilitated with me and said it was one of her best weeks at work in 25 years here. I’ve continued to explore my life outside of the gender binary and build up my confidence to express myself how I deserve to be seen and experienced. I feel powerful and present in any room I enter, and display and use my wings whenever I feel like it.

All of this is nice to reflect upon, but my real purpose in writing is to express my gratitude for your years of endless support. I’m able to sit and reflect and wind up feeling empowered because of all the times you reminded me that I have intrinsic worth just because I exist. All of the ways you demonstrated intrinsic worth by honoring your own. Your empathy, understanding, and active support is what kept me alive throughout my years of struggle, and it is my inspiration moving forward.

I was actually shocked (but not surprised) to see I didn’t write here at all in the year 2019. I am sure I’ll miss some things but that year included a few trips to rehab, my “best friend” disappearing from my life, leaving my job that I loved, my husband starting PReP and telling me its not my business, my beloved grandfather died, my husband moving out of our house and telling me all the strife is my fault, a visit to a long-term rehab in Palm Springs, a few ER trips, spending both my 40th birthday and Christmas drunk and alone, and most importantly the day I met you.

We met December 19th, 2019. It was such a long journey for me to get to that point and unfortunately my chaos wasn’t over. After we met that first night I think I had two ER visits and then a weekend of falling apart where I lied to you about drinking and ended up again in a detox space. And you came to visit me and we cemented our connection.

 I want you to know me. I am not the chaos I described above. I am a person that had a very rough time and is dealing with it. Thankfully I am capable of handling both stress and love and that’s where I am tonight. I fought through some rough years and preserved enough of myself to be available to meet you that night and still continue to meet you every morning as this new world has thrust us together and allowed our intimacy to grow.

In my time on this planet I’ve had the opportunity to understand what matters most during the course of a life: connection. It can happen through a smile on the street or sharing a favorite song. It happens when we write messages all day like flint being struck to create a warming fire. Connection is always an opportunity for understanding and that’s the sole job of this over-sized human brain that evolution placed within our skulls.

You have entered my life at the most opportune moment for me to actually be broken enough that I can emerge from my protective shell and let myself be seen. And you have come with a grace and purity I’ve not actually experienced from someone before. You live with so much energy. You exist with open emotions and wisdom. And you have a smile that can brighten the darkest skies.

You are the one. I am someone who has been too guarded for too long. I am extremely sensitive. I am too in love with life and too available for heartbreak. But I also accept all of this as part of life and believe it can be worth it. And you, G, you are worth it.

I write this lying on the side of my bed where you’ve been sleeping. I am so ready to give you all I have and receive everything you’re willing to offer. I love you. That feels like such a perfect lullaby as I fall asleep waiting to hug and kiss you again.

You’re sitting in silence and you wonder if you actually exist….

I’ve begun to take steps to liberate myself. Today I took care to clean up my body. In preparation. But I realized that the small, intimate details are not enough. Sitting alone will only cause me to reflect and worry. I need to be around people who are alive. I need to allow myself to be the same.

I feel like I’ve just been reintroduced to myself.

Lately (which probably means for the past few years) I’ve been trapped under a rain cloud of insecurity and rejection. I allowed my husband to be my only gauge for my self worth. That’s obviously not a good idea — to allow one person to be responsible for how you see yourself.

I know the experts would say that you should love yourself, and not worry about others’ perceptions of you. That’s not the easiest thing to accomplish. So I’ve been opening myself up to other forms of feedback.

I started chatting online with some gentleman who doesn’t know me at all — just some images and conversations. He told me I was handsome. Funny. He liked my photographic art. When I began to feel that giddiness of being seen I realized that I actually receive so much positive feedback about elements of me that I value. I want to be seen as kind and creative. Intelligent and empathetic. And when I began to look for evidence of that I realized it was easy for me to locate it all over the place. My friends and family have been telling me a lot about how they care about me. Why was I blocking it all out? Why couldn’t I receive it?

I hope I’m able to sustain this new feeling of self-appreciation. I do have a lot to offer the world. I would like to think I have artistic merit. I would like to think I do good in the world. I’d also like to feel like people find me attractive and genuinely want to be with me. I’m going to keep working on that.